The Road
by EsmereldaGaladriel
Summary: Multiple finders disappear near a small village in Hungary, and a group of four exorcists are dispatched to solve the problem. Among these are Daisya Barry and Yuu Kanda, whose stories continue far beyond the precipitating event, and, for better or worse, are the same for quite some time. This chronicles the road that ends in Barcelona for one, and in Bodrum for the other.
1. Chapter 1

A note: I've only edited this once, so it's very rough. I probably won't edit it again if left to my own devices, so please review. I beg you, even if it's just to point out a typo.

Without further ado,

 **The Road to Budapest**

Daisya gulped down the last of his soup, setting the bowl back on the empty tray with a clunk. Subconsciously, he began eyeing the half-eaten remnants on the tray opposite him. The old man's meeting would probably last for a while. After all, it had to be important if it took precedence over lunchtime.

He glanced around, reached forward, but clenched his fingers in midair.

The old man would probably show up the moment he grabbed for it. He had a nasty habit of having perfect timing.

He retracted his hand, and tried to fold a paper crane out of his napkin. It didn't work, but it killed time.

That was the thing about the Order. Say what you like, it was pretty hard to get suicidally bored. It was a bit boring, but Daisya could get bored in the middle of a sports match. As long as it wasn't soccer, that is. So, the fact that boredom was a temporary thing here said a lot.

He gave up on the crane and started on a candle. He could make those reliably.

He folded the cloth into a triangle, then flipped it over and folded the top down.

The one annoying thing about the Order was that there weren't so many kids. I mean, the old man's nice, and Marie's pretty cool, but he's basically a grown-up.

There were a few others, but they were few and far between, and most of them were pretty boring people. All they every talked about was how they wanted to go home.

Even if Daisya ended up half-dead at the order, he was never going home. Home was nice for a few weeks. After that it was Hell.

Though, he thought in annoyance, this is a house of God, and I shouldn't be thinking like this. Yadda yadda yadda.

There were exorcists. There were akuma. But God was a bit of an iffy topic.

He heaved a sigh, and turned the candle into a hat.

"Daisya…"

Daisya's fingers twitched, and the hat-soon-to-be-a-boat collapsed. The old man made no noise at all when he walked. It was a bit creepy when you weren't expecting it.

The hat reformed itself before Daisya turned around.

Well.

"Ah, I see I have some soup left. You have managed to restrain yourself yet again. This is Kanda, by the way. He was an apprentice of mine before you joined the Order."

The old man had a bored-looking kid in tow.

"He's about your age, and he's been assigned to us. Now–"

"Does he talk a lot?" interrupted Daisya. Who cared about details — if he was going to have to spend his time with a chatterbox, he wanted to know in advance.

The old man gave him a look that was not so much angry as tired.

"I was about to say, he's a bit shy. Anyhow–"

"Is he boring, then?"

The old man sighed. "Daisya, it's very rude to talk about someone in front of them."

Daisya shrugged, and turned towards Kanda. Were it not for the general's words, he might have thought he was a girl, with long hair and a slight build.

"Are you boring, then? Also, do you talk too much? Everyone always used to say my brother was shy, but he never shut up at home."

The kid called Kanda's expression slid from one of disinterest to one of contempt.

"It's your choice."

"Okay."

Daisya turned back to the general.

"So why's he here?"

"I was telling you before you so rudely interrupted," said the general, straightening his glasses.

"Sorry."

Daisha's voice sounded insincere, as with everything, but it was the thought that counted.

"You are — yes, despite your love for football — in need of training, and the Order believes that you would benefit more from training with someone your own age."

Tiedoll looked tired, as if he was anticipating resistance.

"Okay."

Daisya shrugged, and turned back to the hat. It wasn't really worth fighting over, and besides…

…Kanda was different, so that meant he was interesting.

"And there's another exorcist, Noise Marie, who'll be joining us as an extra pair of hands. He used to be one of my students, like you."

The hat turned into a boat.

"Yep."

Hmm. The blind kid and this new one.

Could be interesting.

…

"Daisya…" began the general.

Oh, no, now he's bringing out the mom voice.

"I know, I should try and be nice to the new kid," said Daisya, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice.

"Daisya, how many times do I have to tell you not to interrupt?"

Daisya had the grace to look a bit embarrassed.

"A bunch."

"Someday, I know you'll listen to me. What I was about to say was: Kanda is not an average child. You would do well to watch him."

"Sounds interesting."

General Tiedoll seemed a bit preoccupied as he went on.

"Daisya, I've heard that you haven't quite gotten along with some of the others here, so I'd like you to try a bit harder with Kanda."

Daisya nodded, and his expression retained its typical air of aloof confidence for a moment.

Then he grinned.

"Sure."

The general nodded contentedly.

"Hmm, that's good," he said thoughtfully, "I was expecting a bit more resistance, though, as you aren't so fond of the other children."

Daisya shrugged.

"They're all the same. They want to go home, they want to be my friend, blah, blah, blah. But I don't know what Kanda's thinking."

He finished a scribble on a piece of paper, narrowing his eyes in co concentration.

"And I want to find out. I'm going to find out."

Tiedoll noticed the hungry expression on his apprentice's face. He hadn't been this excited since he became an exorcist.

Though, from what he'd guessed of the horrors Kanda had faced, Daisya might find the challenge a bit too steep even for him.

Daisya had finished another scribble, and had rotated the paper to give more room. He had some natural talent, but even he had said that the only reason for the manic doodling in his free time was as an amusement.

Tiedoll wondered how Daisya had lasted as long as he did in his village without spontaneously combusting from the tedium.


	2. Chapter 2

**Blah blah blah, please read and review, etc., whatever. Basically, if someone's ooc, please tell me, because that is the greatest crime of fanfic. Actually, it's second to incomprehensible writing. Anyway...**

"Do either of you play football?" asked Daisya through a mouthful of scrambled eggs, "No one here seems to like it."

He finished the eggs in record time, moving on to the stack of pancakes on the other side, spraying crumbs across the table as the other three sitting there attempted to finish their first meal a bit more daintily.

"I don't really like sports," said the blind kid — Marie, who was sitting beside Tiedoll, facing Kanda.

Well, 'kid' was a bit of a misnomer, but Daisya had picked up a habit of calling everyone under the age of 25 'kid'.

"Your loss then."

He finished the pancakes, and swept his knife and fork around to four o' clock on the plate.

"What about you?"

The question was addressed to the kid beside him, who had spent most of the meal leaning away in distaste.

"I don't play sports. They're a waste of time."

Daisya raised his eyebrows.

"Wow, your lives must be boring. Do you even know how to play?"

"I think there'll be time to play later," interjected Tiedoll, noticing the unnaturally calm expression that had plastered itself on to Kanda's face, "But for now we should probably get going. An assignment's come up in Hungary, so we'll only have a few days to get ready."

The news seemed to fit its purpose — Daisya brightened up a bit, and Kanda had regained his look of mild disgust. Kanda was an odd one — he had been a somewhat civil apprentice, and treated Marie with deference, but was contemptuous towards almost all others.

"There have been a few odd occurrences near the border with Romania — ghosts, disappearances, the usual — but there were too many of them in one place. The finders there seemed to suffer the same fate almost immediately, and we're the largest group of exorcists that can be sent out as a unit, now that Kanda and Marie had joined us."

"That's convenient," said Kanda, unable to keep his voice clean of disdain, "Seems we won't have time to play football, thankfully."

Daisya absentmindedly rapped his knuckles with the spoon he was twiddling.

"Didn't your mother tell you not to be petty?"

Kanda appeared to freeze for a moment, then smiled.

"Daisya–!"

The general's reproach was cut short with two purposeful clinks of metal on china.

Marie pushed his chair back, and collected his dishes. He was already pushing 6'5", and for all his blindness his stare held a certain hold over the two children opposite him.

"If that is the case, I think I'll need some time to prepare. It's best to get an early start."

Tiedoll nodded, and made a note to himself that it was probably best to seat Kanda and Daisya kitty-corner from one another in the future.

"My thoughts exactly," he added, shooting a 'you'll get a scolding later' look at Daisya. He had assumed the kid would get better, but his behaviour continually straddled the line between chatterbox and egomaniac. Even Kanda had been more manageable, if initially cold.

But, he remembered, that wasn't all there was.

And maybe he'd been a bit too strict lately, but Daisya would have to grow up quickly to survive in the Order.

For the moment, he had but one hope, and it was that both his apprentices would survive both each others' attacks —

— and those of the akuma. Kanda was competent, but his shaky regard of his own life left him vulnerable.

They may have been children, but they were also exorcists. Travelling in a pack could only help so much. In as little as a few years, they would fight alone.

His job was to keep them both alive until then.

…

"…how can you not like football? I mean, I bet that brat doesn't even know how to play! I'll teach him — like, literally, I'm going to have to teach them both, and it's always really annoying because then you have to know the rules really well and…"

Daisya chattered on as he muscled his sleeping roll into a cylinder. A simple task, but he simply lacked the body mass to do it. Nonetheless, it had probably been a therapeutic half-hour for him.

General Tiedoll, meanwhile, took the post of the sensible adult of the duo — that is, packing everything Daisya had forgotten under the set of drawers, and trying to fit his own belongings in the same bag.

He'd hoped Daisya would have tired of his quest by now, but a few arbitrations on his (and twice that on Marie's, so he'd heard) had showed him that the journey was going to be a long one.

Oh, well. At least the time period between fights was getting marginally longer. Just a few hours ago Kanda had agreed to a game of hearts.

Daisya had then proceeded to go on a tangent about the scoring, which Kanda turned into a jab at football, which then escalated from there.

For all his maturity towards adults, Kanda had little patience for children his own age.

Or maybe not so surprisingly. He had only matured because he had no other choice, so it was to be expected that he lapsed a bit in a new situation.

Daisya was a borderline example, as he had a self-centred thought process without the subtlety to blunt it. He had no fear of consequences, however rational. No fear of scolding, no fear of pain, and Tiedoll suspected his addiction to adrenaline would nullify even a fear of death.

Fear is a healthy thing, and Tiedoll would soon find out that not one but both of his apprentices were starving for it.

…

"…that brat is just so utterly obsessed with that stupid sport of his."

Marie dutifully chalked the utterance up as the nineteenth in twenty-five minutes.

He did agree, of course, but Kanda should have figured it out by now.

Now, let's see, the drawers felt empty, he'd swept out under the bed, and he could hear any dampening when he tapped on the ground. Thankfully, Kanda grasped the concept of 'packing' far better than others his age.

Though, from his experiences, Kanda would have needed to grow up. Marie didn't like to think about what he must have gone through, but the fact was unavoidable that Kanda had seen far too much of death.

He hadn't told Tiedoll yet, but he had been told to keep an eye on Kanda. The Order hoped to nullify some of his more unpredictable traits by pairing him with a kid as brash as Daisya.

Had Marie been able to see, he would have glanced up at Kanda, and attempted to read his expressions. This was the most Kanda had spoken in a while. Instead, he settled for picking out the nuances in his voice.

"…what's the point of kicking a ball? It's useless…"


	3. Chapter 3

"There are so many trees here."

Daisya trudged along, staring sideways into the woods. His footsteps had begun to drag, after the first few kilometres. He was counting down the minutes until they reached the railway station.

"Really."

Kanda's sardonic tone was not missed as a constant foil to Daisya's wonderings, but Tiedoll had decided to let them go on for a few more weeks. Maybe they'd see eye to eye on something. Eventually. Perhaps.

"I was born on the Mediterranean, ya know. Nothing but rocks for miles. Trees were something you saw in books."

Kanda opened his mouth to retort, but paused oddly.

"…well, there are this many trees. And a lot more."

His tone was deprecating, but more irritated than contemptuous. Hardly an improvement, at any rate.

Silence reigned again for a few minutes, before falling victim to a coup headed by Kanda, of all people.

"The trees here are nice because they keep the paths sheltered."

Daisya nodded, falling back slightly to where Kanda was walking.

"Yeah. Back home the forests were all made of skinny trees, and there was nothing to protect you from the sun."

Kanda glanced up briefly at the darkening sky. Sun wouldn't be an issue for the next few hours.

"And what about the rain?"

"Oh," said Daisya with a hint of the odd pride everyone has for home, no matter how much they hate it, "It never rained. We could barely grow anything, which is why there were always so many people in the trade district."

"Hmm."

Marie quickened his pace slightly to bring himself in line with the two children.

"I remember, where I was born, there were mostly trees and mountains. They built castles up there; they said it was because it was so beautiful…"

General Tiedoll kept his pace steady at the head of the party, listening to Marie's attempt to continue the conversation. Maybe there was a hope of peace, if only in the odd conversation.

Kanda had added something inaudible, and when Daisya next spoke his words had the edge of a giggle in them.

The remaining hour or so seemed to go a bit more quickly.

…

The forest faded into grassland, and houses started appearing on the hills. By this time, the conversation had faded, but not before visiting the topics of tourists, sunshine, and the relative benefits of eating salad. Marie kept most of the conversations going, to Tiedoll's surprise, while Daisya talked a lot about each subject, saying nothing much all the while.

At long last, city crawled out to meet them, and the train station's wrought iron gates rose up in front of them. The next half an hour was mostly uneventful, marked only by Daisya's dancing too close to the edge of the platform, Tiedoll's advice to get off there, and Kanda's glare.

…

"How long's the train ride?" asked Daisya, sliding along the bench.

General Tiedoll stowed a briefcase in the overhead compartment, and sat down opposite his charge. The brief conversation while walking hadn't changed his mind about separating his students.

"It should be about five hours. The Order is quite isolated."

"You're telling me. It seemed even longer when we were going there."

Daisya turned to look out the window, then swung his head back around to look out the doorframe. Someone had made a noise.

Kanda walked in through the doorway, tightening the final knot in his hair tie.

"I don't remember the journey to the Order. It's probably not much," he said, sitting on the edge of the bench, next to Tiedoll.

"Seemed pretty long to me," Daisya added, but he left it there.

Heavier footsteps padded outside the compartment, and Marie appeared through the doorframe.

"I think that's the last of the luggage," he said, taking a place next to Daisya.

"Do you remember your journey to the Order?" asked Tiedoll, wanting to continue the conversation. Now that the four of them were seated and staying still — well, Daisya was staying in one place, at least — there was the chance that some peace might be reached.

Marie's eyes looked up unconsciously, as if reading from a mental cue card.

"I think it was when I was eleven," he said slowly, "I don't know what it looked like, obviously, but I do remember that it was a long way uphill."

The general chuckled. "Ah, yes, I do remember that from my first journey, and from every one after that. It's hard on the knees, isn't it?"

Daisya, for his part, nodded emphatically, choosing to stay silent for once.

In the few moments that followed, there was the sound of bustling outside the window, as the last few passengers boarded.

Tiedoll rested his hands on the table in the centre of the compartment.

"Well, we have plenty of time to kill, now. Perhaps a card game?"

Daisya shrugged.

"Maybe, but it'll get boring after half an hour, unless you know something more complicated than hearts."

Kanda nodded. He had already crossed his arms and slumped back on the bench, in the traditional position of the apathetic.

"I don't like to say it, but I agree with Daisya."

Marie shrugged. "It would still pass some time, depending on the game. General?"

Tiedoll's customary smile broadened, and he straightened his taped-up glasses.

"There's one I don't believe I've taught either of you yet. Have any of you heard of five hundred?"

The other three shook their heads.

"Okay. It'll take some time to learn, but the games can go on for a while, so it should keep us amused. All right. So, you play the game in partners with the person kitty-corner to you. That means I'm with Marie, and Kanda and Daisya are together…"

For a brief mental pause, Tiedoll debated the wisdom of switching partners, but decided that Daisya and Kanda were better off not facing one another.

"…and that also means that you have to play both your hand and your partner's hand. The first team that gets five hundred points wins."

About fifteen minutes later, after a detailed explanation and a practice trick, the game commenced. Four exorcists playing a card game require a far grander word than 'started'.

"Hmm."

Tiedoll looked at his cards. Jack of hearts, very good, a few low hearts, ace and king of spades, a few high-ish diamonds and the queen of clubs. Not bad, but nothing to bid on.

He cast a glance over at Marie, who was still running his fingers over the cards.

"Six diamonds."

The bid cycled clockwise to Daisya, who was staring at his own cards, but also sending the occasional look to Kanda, as if trying to communicate something.

"Pa-ass…"

He enunciated the word lightly.

Marie's turn.

"Seven diamonds."

His voice held a note of doubt; perhaps an indication that he was relying somewhat on Tiedoll's hand. The best part of five hundred was watching your opponents trying to communicate, and the most difficult part was attempting to communicate within your own team.

Kanda, for his part, was taking his time deciding.

Eventually, after glancing up at Daisya, he spoke.

"Seven hearts."

He sat back, and an uncharacteristic smile passed over his face.

"Pass."

It was probably best to let the kids have it this time, to let them learn. Also, if Marie's hand was nothing to write home about, there was a better chance of them losing compared to his chance at winning.

Now, Daisya's turn. Judging from the look on Kanda's face, he should probably go eight hearts.

At least, if Kanda was trying to encourage him. But Kanda's smile was a critically endangered species, and there was a certain glassiness to his eyes.

Perhaps a bit of reverse psychology?

"Pass."

Daisya sat back, and grinned.

Hmm. Now, he may have been perceptive, or he may have just been trying to annoy Kanda.

Against previous evidence, Tiedoll thought it could actually be the former.

"Pass."

Marie's final statement left the bid to Kanda, who quickly picked up the kitty, shuffled it into his hand, and discarded three cards.

Let the game begin.


	4. Chapter 4

**This is far from stellar, but bear with me. There's a small chance it could get better. Also, misspellings when talking about the mugs are intentional, and Daisya and Kanda's OOC moments are as well, to account for the awkwardness of having to put up with a stranger.**

Marie neatly laid the ace of clubs on the two previous ones, before play passed to Kanda. The kids had four tricks, and they had three. One more trick, and the game would tip permanently in the favour of the adults.

Kanda, for his part, made quite a show of staring at his cards.

He looked up at Daisya, who was employing a carefully blank expression, and then back down at his cards.

Let's see…

He selected the five of hearts, and played it.

General Tiedoll couldn't help but sigh dramatically. He was not, as a rule, competitive, but it was always good to put on a show.

Also, he'd been certain that Kanda had at least one club left.

Daisya gleefully collected the trick, stacking it with the others, and waited as the cards were played. The queen of hearts was Kanda's offering.

The old man topped it with the jack, but that was nothing to worry about.

Showtime, as it were.

He selected the card he'd been saving. The picture looked a bit like him, with bells and painted-on tears.

Funny. He looked the part, even though he didn't act like it. It was worth a try.

He placed the joker on the trick, relished the impressed look on the old man's face, and waited until the trick ran out. Hah, looks like Kanda was pretty good at guessing what he had.

Or maybe he just took a risk, but he didn't seem like he'd do that.

He played the ten of diamonds. If he was correct, Kanda had either really low cards or the ace, and Marie would have the king.

King, ace, queen.

Another trick won, and then another, and then another. Game over.

Tiedoll smiled in mock chagrin.

"I must say I was sure that Marie had the joker."

Kanda shrugged a reply, and narrowed his eyes in Daisya's direction.

"It was obvious. Daisya can't hide his cards."

"To each their own," said Marie diplomatically, cutting of Daisya, "My favourite method is to draw out the higher cards, and then use trumps."

Daisya's face had by then lost its brief flash of anger, but a hint of annoyancewas still threaded into his voice when he laughed, and said:

"Well, I don't really care what I do. If I'm bored, I'll just change it."

He collected the cards together, and started to shuffle them, grinning at the uniform noise as they hit the table, and then collapsed back into place. He carefully laid a card down at each place, leaving three in the middle.

The quartet picked up their cards, and examined them again.

"Pass."

"Six clubs."

Daisya and Marie had a quick time deciding what to do, but Kanda took longer, staring intently at his hand.

"Looks like your hand isn't that boring," said Daisya after a few seconds, "You going to bid?"

Kanda managed to give the impression of eye rolling without moving a muscle.

"Yes, if you'd shut up. 'Boring' is subjective. Which means most of what you say is bu– nonsense."

He bit down on the syllable after he remembered his company, but he was sure Daisya had gotten the message.

"Six no trump."

Daisya glanced over at Tiedoll as he made his decision, then back at his own hand.

"Actually, you're pretty wrong about that. Boring things are boring because I think they're boring. You don't care about boring or not boring, and no one else here does, so what I say is 'boring' is the only definition that counts, because it's the only one that exists."

There was a clacking noise as Tiedoll straightened his cards on the table.

"Seven clubs, I think."

A few passes later, the kitty was Tiedoll's.

…

The game went on for a few hours, until Marie suggested that the game could also be ended by one team having -500 points, and thus losing. Daisya and Kanda, for all their gritted teeth and enmity, lost only by a hand or two.

"Two hours left."

Kanda's expression had already frozen.

Daisya stuck a closed fist out in front of him, and started at his fingers.

"So all we've got left is this train ride…"

He extended a finger.

"…the ferry, another train, then we have to walk for a bit, then another train…"

He stuck out another fist.

"…another ferry, then a train, then some walking, and then we're there. Plenty of time to get to know each other."

"Joy."

Kanda didn't even move his eyes, keeping them fixed on the wall.

"I think we may have the opportunity to play more card games in the future," said Marie, with the hint of a smile.

"It's either that or word games," added Tiedoll.

"Or we could just shut up and wait."

"Yeah, but that gets boring."

"So do card games."

"Yeah, but are a lot of card games. There aren't any things you can change about being quiet."

"Let me guess: it's boring."

Daisya grinned glassily, but there wasn't much humour in his expression. He tried sarcasm.

"Gosh, I'm amazed you can tell. You should be a psychic."

"Shut up."

Surprisingly, Daisya did so, but his look of annoyance didn't vanish.

A few minutes later, he piped up again.

"Say, Marie, are there any games you know?"

Marie head the almost inaudible sigh from Kanda, and decided to answer the question despite his down dislike of chatter.

"Well, there's always 'think pink,' but I remember my music teacher used to play a guessing game to see how well we knew the notes."

Daisya leaned forward in his seat, balancing the extra weight on his hands.

"Oh, so, you hum a note, and then you guess which one it is?"

"Yes, essentially."

"That's cool."

He grinned slightly, and chuckled. He seemed to do that quite a bit, Marie had noted. Though, whether there was any meaning to it was a different question. Kanda sighed quietly in exasperation as much as he talked, but that was just a filler noise in his vocabulary.

The rest of the train ride was, oddly, filled with mostly silence. There was the occasional chuckle from Daisya, presumably because he'd just thought of something funny, and the constant counterpoint of exasperated noises. Marie had no concept of a visual glare, but he could sense that Kanda would probably be employing one along with its auditory equivalent.

...

The train eventually pulled up to the station, and the disembarking unfolded with a normality one might not expect of exorcists. A family of four — father, older brother, and younger twins — shuffled along, one of the twins skipping gleefully ahead, the other crossing his arms and shadowing his older sibling.

They shuffled through the port with their baggage, and boarded the ferry in fairly short order. Hungary was quite a trip away, so the more time that could be saved, the better.

The ferry ride passed in the same silence, punctuated again by twin sound effects, and eventually the family ended up in a town called Calais.

"Marie and I are just going to find somewhere to stay," said the father to the twins, "So would you two mind staying with the bags for now?"

The skipping twin opened his mouth to speak, but was forestalled by a defense from the father.

"We'll move more quickly without the bags, and the sooner we find someplace, the sooner we can rest. You know that. Just don't wander off, Daisya."

"Yep," said the twin in a bored voice.

The two children sat down on a bench, an array of backpacks forming a barrier between them. In parallel, they stared out at the square, watching the cross-eyed pigeons waddling over the paving stones.

...

"I was going to say that I could go with them," said Daisya dryly, "But I'm sure you're happy I got to say."

He glanced over at Kanda, whose omnipresent glare contrasted with his wry grin.

"Shut up."

Daisya swayed forwards and backwards, pushing off from his hands.

"You know, you've gotta get a bit more creative with the words you use. I mean, it's so boring saying shut up all the time. You could tell me to stuff a sock in it, to see my lips shut, to cease conversation, but you always say shut up."

"Shut up."

"See? It's boring when it's always the same."

"Then shut up before I cut your tongue off and feed it to the pigeons."

Daisya smiled brightly.

"See? That's better! If you keep doing that, I might actually listen."

In front of them, a squabble broke out over the discarded corner of a sausage roll.

Daisya turned to the bags beside him, and rummaged through one of the smaller backpacks, sticking his arm up to the elbow in it. A few seconds passed before his face lit up, and he pulled out a small cylinder, about a centimetre and a half thick and twenty centimetres long.

He carefully untied the twine around it, and rolled out the piece of paper and pencil.

Kanda, in equal parts disdain and confusion, watched as he began to cover the paper with a series of clumsy sketches and abstract shapes, barely visible because of the thinness of the lines.

"Like my drawings?" asked Daisya after a few seconds. He didn't take his eyes off the paper, but Kanda got the feeling he had shifted his focus to him.

"If I said they're bad it would be a compliment."

"In which case, thanks bunches."

"It's 'thanks a bunch'."

"No, I said what I meant."

"Whatever."

Kanda recrossed his arms, and swept his eyes around the square. Nothing much. A bakery — the source of the sausage roll — a couple of souvenir shops, a fruit stand. Typical of a port town, with plenty of people passing through and desperately in need of a cracked mug with 'wordl's best mum' on them.

He doubted they made 'world's best excorsist' mugs. There was too small a market.

Speaking of which…

Exorcists were always in short supply. There was no logic to sending four on a run-of-the-mill mission.

Sure, the finders had lost contact, but even then, he and Marie could have handled it. Or the General, regardless of Daisya's presence. He himself, even. Exorcists started early.

Daisya probably would have been with him anyway. He was like a whining puppy, trailing after the General and biting the hem of his robe. Pathetic. He had never been like that.

He had been more angry.

And now he was angry, that here was another useless brat without any concept of the magnitude of being an exorcist. A load for them all to bear.

He had never been like that.

There was the dry sound of rustling paper as Daisya presumably rolled the pencil back up in its blanket, tying it neatly.

Kanda stole a glance, and saw him sitting straight, and staring blankly ahead. Occasionally, he would sway, or let a flash of an expression cross his face.

"How much does it take to kill an akuma?"

The question hung in the air for a moment before Kanda snapped out of his own reverie.

"How should I know? You just kill it."

"That's interesting. Well, I guess it probably depends on the akuma."

There was an irritated noise from Kanda.

"Does it even matter?"

"Dunno. So I know what to do when I need to kill one."

"You've really never killed one before?"

Kanda turned again to face Daisya, and Daisya shrugged, returning the gaze.

"A few, but I don't know how strong the old man is compared to other exorcists, it doesn't help."

Kanda's glare slid from disbelieving back to exasperated.

"So you've spent the past five minutes making up a fight?"

"Yep," said Daisya, grinning.

Kanda had only noticed now, but there was always an edge to Daisya's smiles. Something hungry, as if he was trying to be in control.

He turned back to the pigeons, and slouched against the stack of backpacks.

"Let me guess: you're bored."

"Y–"

"Don't bother answering."

"Didn't know I was that depressing to be around," said Daisya, in tones of mock wonder.

"You're exhausting."

"Well, you haven't told me to shut up yet, so it looks like you're warming up to me."

"If that ever happens, it'll be the day Hell freezes over."

"Well, then, looks like we'll both be headed for a nice, frosty afterlife."

Kanda analyzed the sentence for a minute, then turned to Daisya in a cold rage.

"What the hell–"

"Boys! There you are."

General Tiedoll, accompanied by the soft footsteps of Marie, materialized from an alley behind them.

"We've found someplace with quite a lovely view of the harbour. I think I might even have to paint it, once we get there. What do you say we go over there and have some dinner? Tomorrow will be rather long."

Kanda mellowed his expression significantly before answering.

"So long as it's someplace quiet."

"Very well."

Daisya had already hopped up with his own pack, so passed Marie's and Tiedoll's to them as Kanda shouldered his.

 **Hear ye, hear ye, a new chapter will be on its way, but reviews and/or follows and/or feedback of some sort will expedite it.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Oh look, another chapter with approximately 4.00 x 10^8 paragraph breaks; weird, list-like introspection; really short paragraphs; borderline inexplicable actions; and other writing quirks I am unable to rid myself of. However, the great and glorious (I say this with neither sarcasm nor sardonicism) karina001 and Hn have apparently found it decent, and so I shall go forth with my plan of not bothering to edit much.**

The inn in question, as it were, was seven minutes or so south of the port, perched up on the edge of the sea. After a meal drawn out by Tiedoll's questions about the architecture, the four exorcists found themselves split between two rooms.

Daisya curled up beneath his blankets, wearing his coat over his pyjamas. It would be a while before he got used to the chill of a northern climate.

"I do hope Kanda hasn't been too…abrasive," mused the old man from the other side of the room, "He does have some difficulty with kids his own age."

If there was one thing the old man was, it was predictable. Daisya decided which lie to use, and chose a more neutral one.

"He's been okay. He just doesn't talk much. It's a bit boring."

"Oh, I'm glad," said the old man, sounding relieved, "I know that a lot of the Order hold him at arms' length. It really isn't any good for him, so I'm happy you can understand."

"Mmm."

Daisya stared at the wall, eyes drifting over the pattern of knotholes in the wooden paneling.

"He just seems…"

What was the word. Lifeless, pushy, hungry?

"…tired."

Tired. Yeah, that was the word for him. Not tired as in 'oh dear I haven't slept in a day and my eye just started twitching and did you see that elephant cycle past,' but tired as in 'existence is a trial.'

He pushed, and when you pushed back, he kept pushing until you backed down. His own surrender was never an option.

"Yes. Hmm, that is a good word to use. He has lived through many things, and now he is tired…"

The warm, dry tones of the old man's voice wore on as Daisya came to his own conclusions. In the dusty recesses of his skull, he pulled out a checklist, and crossed off the first bullet point as ineffective. Kanda didn't have enough of a sense of humour for that to work.

Time, now, to try a more neutral approach. Well, what other people thought was nice, at least.

...

The sun had just barely come up when Daisya was woken by a bell. Not his own, but a shrill noise echoing up the stairs.

He groaned, and sat up.

"What time's it?"

"Six bells."

The old man's cheery voice came from near the door. He was already up and dressed.

"How do you even get up this early?" murmured Daisya, half to himself.

"Well, the view from here is just so beautiful, I couldn't help but want to watch the sunrise. I would have woken you, but I thought you might not appreciate it so much."

Daisya had gotten up, picked his shirt off the floor, and pulled it over his head. Then he realized he hadn't taken off his coat or pyjamas yet. Then he remembered that the old man had said something.

"Oh, thanks. How'd it look?"

"Lovely, thank you. I managed to fish out my pastels in time to make a sketch."

After a few false starts, Daisya finally managed to button up his coat over his clothes, not the other way around.

"That's good."

He pulled on one boot, stamping down on the thick leather.

"Uh, General?"

"Yes?"

The old man looked over at him from the door.

"Is there anything Kanda actually likes to do? Whenever we do something, he complains."

The old man chuckled.

"He does like to do that. He's quite fond of arguing, too. There isn't a good way to put it, but I don't think Kanda likes much in particular, nor does he hate anything. The complaining is more of a habit."

Having finally tied a tight enough knot in his laces, Daisya followed the old man downstairs.

"So it's like Marie not saying much, but the opposite?"

"Yes. It isn't too much reflection of his own feelings. That's why the two of them get along so well."

Daisya smiled.

"Yeah. I was wondering about that."

The only other free room had been at the opposite corner of the inn, so Kanda and Marie were already waiting for them.

"Were either of you up to see the sunrise?" asked Tiedoll, pulling up a chair, "It was beautiful."

"I imagine so," said Marie diplomatically. Sometimes it took the General a few moments to catch up to himself.

"Oh, more's the pity. I must say, I have a soft spot for coastlines."

The table subsided back into the vague silence of the half-asleep.

"I'll get some breakfast," mumbled Kanda.

"I can go w—"

"No."

Daisya shrugged, and leaned back in his seat. The time for playing the joker had passed, having not worked.

"Well, while we're waiting for breakfast, I think I'll check up on our situation."

The general pushed his chair back from the table, and wandered over to the telephone in the corner, leaving Marie and Daisya sitting in an awkward silence.

"So today we've got to take the train up north, and then we're going south on the ferry?" he asked, trying to start a conversation.

"Almost," said Marie helpfully, "We need to take the train east to the Black Forest, and then we board the ferry. It will be a few days before we arrive there."

Daisya tried to visualize the journey.

"So, if we're here…"

He tapped a knothole on the table.

"…and we're going here…"

He tapped about a foot away from it, at a spot slightly closer to him.

"…then we need to go here."

He traced a dotted, somewhat diagonal line halfway, then drew a more level line to his second hand.

Marie thought for a few seconds about the patterns of of the sound, and nodded.

"Roughly. Do you like geography? Not many people bother to memorize it."

Marie attempted to continue the conversation, despite his tendency to silence and the occasional twanging of his patience when Daisya talked too much.

A rustling of cloth against wood indicated that the child had shrugged in reply.

"We had a few maps in the shop, so I read them when there was nothing else to do. It's not too hard to memorize stuff when you've been staring at it for years. Do you like it? The maps must be impossible to read."

Marie nodded amicably.

"Most, yes, but there are some in Braille that I can read."

"Braille? Is that the writing with dots?"

"Yes. It's the alphabet for the blind. But in most cases, my hearing is sufficient."

Daisya grinned, and Marie could hear it in his voice.

"Cool."

Kanda returned to the table, balancing four plates on a tray. He glared slightly at Daisya offering a hand, then passed the plates around the table.

"Where's the General?" he asked quietly, hopping back into his seat. The chairs around the table were closer to barstools than proper chairs, necessitating the undignified movement.

"He's phoning headquarters for updates," said Daisya cheerfully, "Thanks for the food, by the way."

A confused glare should be an impossibility, but Kanda managed it.

The three of them started to dig into the food. Continental breakfasts weren't as substantial as the ones at headquarters, but enough hot chocolate fixed anything.

"Anyway, it looks like we're heading for Germany today."

"Tell me something I don't know," muttered Kanda through a mouthful of croissant.

"We are heading for a location near the source of the Danube river in the Black Forest," Marie said, piping up if it were possible with the pitch of his voice.

"Mmm. And then from there to Budapest?"

"And from there to our destination."

The two settled back into silence, and Daisya wondered how that came about. He'd seen Kanda a couple of times, but he yelled at most all the kids except the little Chinese girl who they said refused to synchronize.

Maybe he liked her because she went through the same ordeal, or something. It would take a lot for him to like someone.

So where did Marie fit in?

Maybe a friendly mentor, or maybe someone he knew before…whatever it was had happened. Because something had definitely happened. People are born mostly blank. The world is mostly arbitrary. Anything good, bad, or otherwise was mixed up inextricably with everything else. Kanda was oddly and remarkably pure, then, compared to the rest of the world. The anger that exuded from him wasn't affected by any emotion he was feeling — it was part of his being.

It was beautiful, in a way.

But he could never have been born like that.

Something had happened.

Daisya's thoughts were interrupted by footsteps that should have had the certain bounce in them unique to the old man.

But his footsteps were flat.

"The second team of finders just got wiped out, so we'll have to hurry," he said calmly, "If we catch the six forty-five train, we can make it to the river in half the time, so eat up."

He pulled up a chair, and began to eat with an unusual speed.

Two teams gone. Wow.

The finders were interesting. For one, they were always too cheerful for people whose lives were just an extended suicide mission. Who'd want to do that?

Then again, Daisya hadn't been at the Order long, but normally one team of finders could hold their ground for weeks.

No wonder they sent four exorcists.

But then, why was he there? Kanda had no motivation, which itself was motivation. He would carry out any task asked of him by virtue of having little to fight for or against. Marie was a prodigy. Blind and able to outdo most sighted exorcists in precision, and the ideal teammate for any more combat-oriented fighter. The General was the General. He had survived decades, even when most of his students hadn't. He was one of the most powerful exorcists in the world.

And then there was him. Daisya Barry. Age eleven. Soccer fanatic. The Barry kids' weird older brother.

But now he was an exorcist. The latest of General Tiedoll's line of students.

And yet, he was again relegated to the odd one out.

A trio of family, and their hanger-on.

Oh, well. At least these ones weren't annoying.

Despite the feeling of uselessness, this world was so much better like this.

He ran a finger around the edge of the plate absently. Maybe that was why the finders stayed.

...

A few minutes later, the four were walking at a good clip east towards the train station in an odd silence. Daisya had decided against humming a tune. Kanda would probably prefer he didn't.

Why was he doing this?

He was going through a checklist of attitudes, using each of them to try and put together a picture of Kanda.

But why? He had one already, and it was wrong to treat humans like that.

Like what?

Like animals, to test for traits. Like characters in a book.

But how else could he have done things?

He could have treated Kanda like he normally would. But that wouldn't have been good anyway. Aggression worked on most people, but for those who were a bit harder, well, he just ignored them. But here he was, without a wish or a heartbeat or anything to make him want to have anything to do with Kanda except for burning curiosity.

He himself didn't even act like a kid, but — no, he did. Just not in the right way.

He liked the General. Far more than his own family, far more than anything.

Alone, above everything. No one else at the Order quite accepted what they saw as well as he did.

Marie was nice enough — they'd talked once, and he'd played a card game with Kanda as a participant.

In his world, that counted practically as friendship.

It was odd — it wasn't as if he was a loner. He was perfectly sociable.

It's just that there weren't many people that made him feel happy by their very existence.

There was the old man.

He was that person.

And then there was the idea of football, oddly enough. A game with the precedence of a soul. It was energetic, and cunning, with a wicked grin on its face as it passed the ball behind it without looking away.

That idea, and a kindly old man who hadn't found his mistake yet.

The railway station loomed up ahead, beautiful in its ornate wrought-iron façade and fleur-de-lis-tipped gates.

It was half past six in the morning; the sun gleamed off the windows of the town.

And the air was cold with silence.

 **Vote General Tiedoll for best and weirdest dad, June 2015. As for an explanation, Daisya is basically approaching Kanda like a human that's only ever met dogs would approach a cat. I.e. using a bunch of different, equally ineffective methods that only end up making the cat hiss, and go somewhere else. Stay tuned. By the way, I'm going away on vacation soon, so I won't have internet access from the 27th to about the 6th. I'll probably post fairly regularly, though, depending on motivation. Of course, if I run out of story, I'll slow down for a while, but that shouldn't be an issue for a while.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Surprise, surprise, I'm not dead yet. I'll just be posting chapters a bit less frequently from now on, because the story has started to move (albeit slowly) and my writing is embarrassingly irregular. For instance, about 10000 words of this was written in the space of about a week and a half, whereas the last few thousand have trickled out slowly over the course of a few weeks. Thus, I'll be posting slowly so that I can hopefully finish without having to go on hiatus. That still may happen, though, but I think I'll have time enough to finish this summer. Anyhow, thanks again to Hn and karina001 for reviewing. The feedback is quite helpful, and also encouraging in ways that cannot be overstated.**

 **Aussi, pour tous les francophones qui lisent ce fic, n'hésitez pas à commenter (est-ce le mot?) en français. Ce n'est pas ma ma première langue (alors pardonnez-moi s'il y a des erreurs ici) mais je pense que je vais vous comprendre si vous aimeriez mieux parler en français.**

 **Alors, j'espère que vous aimerez ce chapitre. Hope you all enjoy it, for those Anglos among us.**

...

"What the hell is with that kid?" Kanda murmured, attempting to shove his backpack into the storage compartment. It was amazing how they expected two bags, let alone four, to fit there.

He tried shutting the door on it, but it wouldn't close properly. Time for desperate measures.

"What do you mean?" Marie asked cautiously., "He seems normal, though he is loud."

He was just standing by quietly. At least he had the grace not to try and help Kanda.

"Have you seen him? He's acting creepy. He's not even like that. He's just acting. I can't get a grip on him."

Kanda threw himself at the compartment once again, pushing in the bags and hearing the catch of the lock.

"That should be good."

He turned back to Marie, who seemed to be turning something over in his mind.

"Hmm. Perhaps he really is like that."

"No. He's just his own world. So self-centred he can even think about other people as people."

Odd words for an eleven-year-old, thought Marie. Then again…

Kanda was both younger and far older than that.

He followed Kanda back to the compartment.

…

"Daisya…"

"Hmm?"

Daisya looked up from his sketches, and felt his heart sink. The old man had a concerned look on his face.

"You've been acting quite oddly for the past few days."

"Yeah?"

The old man looked unsure of what to say.

"Is it about Kanda?"

"No, not really. I'm still working on him."

"I'm not entirely sure that that's not the problem, then."

The old man sighed, and Daisya felt it would be a good idea to pay attention. He sometimes ran out of patience. Once every three months, about.

"It's probably best if you treat him like just another person. He isn't any good at working with other people, so it's not very much use trying to crack him. It's just who he is. It's actually rather cute, sometimes, but don't tell him I said that."

The words 'Kanda' and 'cute' were irreconcilable in Daisya's mind, but he nodded.

"So, just go through the normal rounds?"

"Yes. Maybe a bit like what you did with me, after you stopped thinking I was leading you on, though you may suffer slightly heavier consequences if you bother him enough."

"So, you don't mind if I don't get along with him?"

The old man looked a bit taken aback.

"No, not really. Why? Were you trying to?"

Daisya shrugged as he did when avoiding a question. He had a different repertoire of shrugs depending on the occasion, Tiedoll had noticed over the months.

"Sort of. I figured you'd like it better if we didn't fight."

The old man smiled, and Daisya attempted to become one with his chair. He was _so_ embarrassing, sometimes.

"Oh, so that's why you were acting like that," he said, laughing slightly, "Good. I was worried for no reason, then. I must say, Daisya, you're also quite capable of being cute."

Daisya couldn't help but redden, and he looked away in annoyance.

"Yeah, no."

…

The game this time ended 480-360 to Tiedoll and Marie as the train pulled up somewhere in Alsace. It would be difficult to secure a seat on the next train, but the general had said he had a few ideas.

And so, yet again, the twins were left on opposite sides of a bench, arms crossed and alternately glaring and grinning.

"Say, that game's actually pretty interesting."

Daisya didn't bother trying to orchestrate a sentence that was clever or kind in some way. The old man's advice was probably the best he could get involving Kanda.

"You said that yesterday."

"Yup. But most things get boring after a few days."

"Boring's still subjective."

"I know. But I figured I might as well get the introductions over with."

Kanda glared askance at him.

"Well, I was sort of trying to see if you liked it if people were nice or whatever, but the old man said it was useless to try using that on you. So basically I'm introducing myself again."

Daisya shifted position, and stuck a hand out to the other side of the bench.

"I'm Daisya Barry. Ever played football?"

Kanda was fluent in a few languages and knew a few words in many more, which was why none of the locals recognized the exact meaning of his muttering.

Daisya did, though, and giggled.

…

"Why do they always leave us here?" muttered Kanda sullenly. After Daisya's little skit and a few sentences of one-sided conversation, he'd been trying to get some sleep.

"Maybe they want us to get to know each other."

"No way in hell."

"Oh, give us a chance," Daisya said dryly.

He exhaled, and looked up at the clouds. In the upper layers of the atmosphere, cirrus clouds hung like unfinished brush strokes. One of them looked a bit like a waterfall.

Eh, but those clouds were boring compared to the fluffy cumulus clouds, that could be anything from a shark to a lion.

"So, _do_ you know how to play football?"

Kanda let out a scoff.

"Why would I?"

"So you don't know."

"No."

"Hmm."

Daisya thought for a moment, then plunged his hand into his backpack. It was nice, not trying to be anything in particular, even though Kanda was a bit himself.

After some rummaging, he fished out the paper and pencil he liked to keep. The old man was happy that he liked drawing, so he always got a paper allowance.

"I could teach you."

He peeked over the backpacks at Kanda, who was looking as bored as he himself felt.

"Why would I want that?"

Kanda kept looking straight ahead.

"Well, it's either that or staying like this until the old man's found another train or a place to stay. And, if you get this over with now, then you won't have to deal with me later on."

Kanda's face looked curiously blank for a moment, then settled into a mask of exasperation.

"Fine."

Daisya grinned.

"All right!"

…

Marie walked back along the cobblestones, remembering the different patterns of paving slabs he had passed. He often wondered how he'd get by if he didn't have such a good memory.

Thankfully, that was rarely an issue.

Most people pitied him for his blindness, but he was rarely inconvenienced by it now. He could still see pictures, if only in his mind. He remembered the feelings of streets, he heard the echo of sounds off the figures around him, he felt the vibrations when akuma moved. He had no need of sight.

Though, on occasion, he did wonder what it would be like to see all the faces he had met since then.

As he came closer to the rendezvous point, he heard a chatter of voices he had not entirely expected.

"Okay, so, in a proper game, the offence can't go back behind the defense, and the defense can't go in front of the offence, which means you've got to rely on your teammates."

There was a light swishing noise, a pencil gliding across a piece of paper.

"And if it's not a proper game?"

"Well, you only play it like that if you've got a proper team, but if it's ever just us four the only rules we'll be playing with are the ones about kicking it out and stuff."

"You're acting like we're actually going to play."

"Hey, you can choose to do it, or I can choose for you."

Marie decided to interrupt before Daisya got carried away.

"Excuse me, Daisya."

There was a rustling of clothing as one of them presumably turned to face him.

"Found anything?"

Kanda was the first one to speak.

"There's one place we can stay, though the rooms are a bit small. Is the General back? We agreed to meet back here."

"Nah," said Daisya, "He should be back pretty soon, though. Say, you know how to play football? I'm teaching Kanda, so I should probably teach you while I'm at it."

Marie smiled. He agreed with the general — kids were rather cute when confronted with something they liked.

"I do know how to play it, yes, though it's been a while. I'll probably just listen to catch up on the rules."

There was a non-committal sound, and slight rustling of clothing that could be a shrug.

"Suit yourself."

Daisya turned back to his reluctant student.

 **Nothing like a filler chapter to waste time and increase word count. I have to say, I've got the athletic ability of a sick sea snail, so don't quote me on soccer rules. Most of the time I spent playing soccer back in the day was spent attempting to kick the ball just once, and later attempting to stay as far away from the offense players as possible. One soccer ball to the teeth was enough. Also, Daisya refers to it as 'football' because, as far as I can remember, most (if not all) of the European countries refer to it as football.**


	7. Chapter 7

**I've already embarrassed myself once in French, so I'll spare you guys this time, but I live in Calgary (aka Anglotown, in Angloland) so there's no guarantee I won't use the Francophones here as target practice. Also, sorry about the delay in posting, but computer access has been practically nonexistent and I refuse to wrangle with the mobile site. Last of all, I can't thank enough the two reviewers I shall now refer to as 'regulars,' and I encourage you readers to give them some company. I, like most writers, am an attention...let us say 'lady of negotiable affection.'**

 **Sorry if the author's notes are a bit clipped in this one, but the website glitched as I clicked 'save,' rendering 45 minutes' worth of work nonexistent. I was all I could do not to break my computer in half and then in half again.**

 **Without further ado...**

"Hah, look at that guy over there!"

Daisya pointed out of the train car window to a man wearing the traditional lederhosen of the area, ignoring the current conventions for suits and military wear.

Kanda surveyed the scene grimly, despite the pleasant aura cast by the setting sun.

"Yeah."

"Wouldn't you like to wear those?"

"I'd rather rip my own arm off."

Tiedoll of off making an arrangement for the compartment — they were difficult to get, but the post of exorcist held a certain weight — leaving Marie to supervise the kids. He'd apparently decided that they were now getting along.

Well, perhaps making peace to allow for mutually self-centred attitudes was a step up from the previous stage.

There was a leisurely sound from Daisya's end of the bench as he stretched, and a sound bordering on a hiss from Kanda.

"Don't touch me."

The voice held its normal timbre of contempt, despite Kanda's slightly more neutral attitude.

"Okay, okay."

Daisya responded with his customary teasing manner, just on the edge of annoying.

Marie remembered finding his story quite funny. That the kid who had the audacity to scrawl a smiley-face on Tiedoll's work would turn out to be an accommodator was a bit…hmm, ironic wasn't the word, but he couldn't come up with a better one at the moment. It had been hard to imagine a child could be so rude, but Daisya's actions did not disappoint.

Daisya heaved a sigh of boredom.

"Geez, where's that old man gotten to? We need to get going."

There was a grunt of annoyance.

"You'll be bored in five minutes even if he comes back, so be quiet."

"No, we can play another game when we've got four people."

Kanda made another exasperated noise.

"There are plenty of games you can be play with three people."

"Like what? Hearts?"

"What, are you stupid?"

There was the intake of breath that might otherwise have heralded a reply, but it was cut off.

"Don't answer that. Marie just told us about a couple a few days ago."

"Oh yeah," said Daisya, as recognition dawned, "We can get play that sound game, where you have to guess the note. That'll be fun."

He started to absentmindedly tap a pattern of beats on the bench. Sometimes his fingers had a life of their own.

"I didn't say we should do it," said Kanda angrily, "I was ju–"

"But we can still play a game," interrupted Daisya, "How about that, old man Marie?"

Marie ignored the slight, and weighed the options. It would pass time, and Kanda would likely stop grumbling after a few minutes. Also, Daisya wouldn't have the chance to create himself a monologue. A few minutes of variety wouldn't hurt.

"That sounds like a good idea."

…

General Tiedoll walked back to the compartment, mentally thanking both of his charges for building up his argumentative skills. If there was a young clerk or a bored assistant manning the counter, then bartering was simple. An old lady, though…

It was likely that many businesses owed most of their profits to a chain-smoking septuagenarian.

He heard an odd humming noise as he stood outside the door.

"Hmm."

He opened the door, and saw Kanda scowling in concentration.

"G flat…I think."

Daisya stopped humming.

"Yeah! You're actually not bad at this, Kanda."

"You sound surprised."

"Well, yeah. And Marie's way better than you."

Tiedoll took a seat next to the apparent master of the game.

"The note-guessing game, is it?"

"Yes," answered Marie quietly, as the scuffle continued across from them, "I did not anticipate the two of them knowing about music."

Tiedoll smiled.

"Well, I thought Yuu might like some calming piano training. And Daisya wouldn't leave me alone once he learned I could teach him. He's very persistent."

"They both are."

The ambient noise died down eventually, with Kanda and Daisya settling for their typical expressions of sullenness and arrogance.

"Shall we move on?" asked Tiedoll, "I have a note in mind."

A sharp, it turned out to be. Though many would argue that it was the same as B flat, the nuances in the voice can distinguish between the two. It's all in the resonance.

As it so happened, Tiedoll and Marie were the only ones capable of differentiating between the two, so they would easily have won the game had they been keeping track.

...

Sadly, before a victory could be accounted, the darkening sky had taken a hold on the passengers.

Tiedoll stood up quietly, and pulled the blankets from the overhead compartment.

"We're going to be travelling through the night," he advised, "So it would be best if everyone got some sleep while we can."

He tossed one over to Marie, and two to the kids. He would stay awake. The exorcist generals had a certain paranoia that enabled them to stay awake for quite a while. That, and one of the variety of mysterious pills made by the Order's infirmary staff. They were invaluable to most of the exorcist Generals.

To be precise, he'd had maybe two nights of sleep since leaving the Order, courtesy of Marie volunteering for the night shift. The kids needed their sleep. They were still growing, though Daisya had Yuu by a few inches already.

A few minutes later, Daisya was contentedly dozing off. He had the incredible ability to go to sleep anywhere, at any time. Tiedoll envied him a bit. Yuu and Marie were still awake, but he doubted it would be for long. The rocking motion of the train was somewhat soothing.

The sun set further and further below the horizon as forests of beech and spruce flew by outside the window. The south German mountains and spruce forests were a thing of beauty. Had there been time to spare, he would have liked to stop and paint them. Particularly they way they were now, at dusk.

The forested mountains were silhouetted black against the reddish clouds on the horizon, and clawed up as the sky faded from rose to dusky violet and eventually to a deep, dark blue.

Peaceful.

Many exorcists failed to see that the world was neither good nor evil. They saw it either as the birthplace of akuma or the work of a well-meaning God. There was good, and there was evil, but they were not intrinsic in the world. They were entirely human conventions, that were born and died within humanity.

The world, instead, held beauty and ugliness. Neither one was good or evil. And, indeed, he recorded both in his sketchbooks.

He heard the slight change of breathing in the cabin as Marie first, then Yuu fell asleep. Daisya had been out for a while, lucky kid.

The light behind the trees grew dusty, and faded.

As the train wound further up along the sides of the mountains, the moon became visible, climbing higher in the sky as the night wore on. A full moon, suitable for the peace of the occasion, and coloured a buttery yellow from the smoke of the mining towns.

Someone yawned quietly, and shifted position.

Tiedoll had spent countless nights awake, watching over his students. He had seen enough to know that someday, he would spend the night awake, watching as they only appeared to be sleeping, despite the utter, utter stillness of their bodies.

Marie had survived. But he was one of many.

Who had not.

It is the destiny of the child to watch the parent die.

He cast a glance over his students. Marie had curled up on himself, and leaned against the window. Across from them, Yuu and Daisya had slumped together in a heap, balancing on each others' shoulders.

It is the destiny of the master to watch his apprentices do the same.

...

The train pulled into the station sometime after four in the morning, when the horizon was stained lilac. Yuu and Marie woke up immediately, but Daisya remained fast asleep.

" _What_ –"

To forestall his yelling, Tiedoll placed a hand on Yuu's arm.

"Don't wake him up too roughly."

Kanda's face contorted into a grimace, and he attempted to push Daisya off of him as gently as possible. He wasn't too fond of loud noises, either.

"There's a ferry leaving at six that we can catch, so we have an hour or two to kill," said Tiedoll quietly.

There was a thunk as Daisya fell over on the bench, punctuating the early morning silence.

"Is it safe to wait at the port?" asked Marie, "Or has there been any abnormal activity in the area?"

"We should be safe here,"Tiedoll replied, "We can have a nap if we find a convenient bench."

Marie nodded.

"Yes, that would be good. But I think I should stay awake. You need your sleep, as does everyone else."

He gestured at Daisya, who was being prodded insistently by Kanda.

"Ah, thank you."

Tiedoll smiled to himself. His students never ceased to be cute. The ones that survived, at least.

The rest were ashes, though their named plaques lay in the rows upon rows of the Order 'cemetery'. He went by whenever he came back, scattering the scraps and cinders of sketches over the carved marble.

It was only right that as life died, beauty died with it.

 **I found Marie and Tiedoll quite interesting to write, though it was a bit difficult. For Marie, I gave him a bit of a formal speaking style. He's about 21 in this, and I imagine him to have been a shy teenager, especially after learning about what Tiedoll accomplished when he wasn't training exorcists. Also, I tried to make the description in his part auditory, to give a picture similar to the one he saw, as it were, as opposed to a conventional one.**

 **For Tiedoll, I referred to Kanda as 'Yuu' whenever the narrative was firmly from his perspective, and 'Kanda' when I was in doubt. I tried to write his character as benevolent, but practical. Because unnecessary angst would be dangerous to an exorcist General, I imagine he would be very good at getting over the loss of his students. Just going by the mortality rate of exorcists and some info I remembered, his only remaining students as of the latest chapters are Marie, Kanda, and Chaoji, so I thought he would think of the students he lost with kindness, but not with too much grief.**

 **However, I think that not even the most experienced of exorcists can quite cut out the memories from their minds of what was, and how different it is from what now is.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello again, and thank you very much to Karina for reviewing the last chapter.**

 **If I may go off on a tangent, this story was mainly inspired by the accidental worldbuilding the anime added in when they transitioned out of one filler arc and into Daisya's, using a character with a name and nothing else and giving him another small filler arc. However, in adding a few harmless lines of dialogue and a backstory, a few questions were inadvertently raised. Why did Kanda have to meet Daisya in a small, presumably German town instead of at headquarters? How did Daisya come to be less scared of Kanda than even Lavi? If he's known Kanda long enough to accurately read him (a difficult feat), then precisely how long has Daisya known Kanda and Marie, and why does Marie (the friendlier one) act more coldly (relatively) towards him than Kanda?**

 **I wondered for a while particularly about why Kanda said to 'protect' or 'take care of' (dub and sub respectively) Daisya, which is uncharacteristic of him but not OOC, given the anime's more nuanced take on his (Kanda's) character - namely that, while he is irritable, angry, and bitter, he values life and will save whoever he can while incurring the fewest losses. Frankly, I prefer that version of Kanda to his character in the first 40-some chapters of DGM, where I find him to be little more than an angry piece of cardboard.**

 **Either way, the purpose of this story is to create just one possible past that could have built up to Daisya's death without making Kanda a completely bastardized version of himself. That being said, his actions in the first section of this (named 'The Road to Budapest') he'll be a bit more emotional and more erratic, as he would have only been alive for two years, and the trauma of the incident with Alma would have a heavier effect on his actions. Also, this particular chapter features the whole gang operating on maybe three hours of sleep, so they're all acting a bit oddly.**

 **So, if you'll pardon the background, continue as you were. I hope you read, enjoy, and review, hopefully in that order.**

...

Marie relaxed, and opened his ears to the sounds of the port. Children crying, the urgent but comforting voices of parents, the flow of the river.

The heavy breathing of the three sleepers was a velvet texture on the edge of hearing, thankfully devoid of snoring. Marie had once had to switch finders and partners because of that. His sensitive hearing was as much a curse at times as it was a gift.

Time wore on, and the exact details of the mission remained opaque.

Why had the finders disappeared? Generally they were able to file a report before being offed by akuma.

Why was Kanda here with them? Why did he and Daisya need company? Exorcists younger than them had taken solo missions before, provided their finders were competent.

But there were no finders, and too many exorcists.

Perhaps it was a way to get them out of the Order's hair.

But that was irrelevant, at the moment, because beside him he could hear not one, now, but two higher-pitched rhythms of breath, calm for once in sleep.

That was what was important.

…

At the end of the day, the ferry had pulled into another port, and another two hours laid themselves out for the slaughter. They had to catch the train tonight.

The four travellers sat on their coats at the base of a wall, trying not to fall asleep, to a greater or lesser degree of success. Even Daisya had nothing to say, instead staring out at the street without even a disparaging laugh.

People passed in the fading sunlight, and the dull roar of the crowd a few streets over echoed off of the deserted stones of the alley. Marie picked out a woman complaining about the quality of bread, a child crying about a dropped toy, and a man attempting to calm down a frantic horse.

Clop, clack as the horse backed down.

And then, the strains of a fiddle on the edge of hearing, and tapping feet.

Daisya started, as if remembering something. Perhaps he'd passed from exhaustion into the destructive kind of energy brought on by going beyond being tired.

"Hey, Kanda, wanna kick the ball around a bit?"

"No."

"Because I really need some practice if we're going to run into akuma."

"Football has nothing to do with Innocence."

"Yeah, but it has got something to do with mine."

"Yeah, right."

Daisya laughed.

"Give me five seconds."

He turned over, and plunged his hand into one of the bags, eventually bringing out a small bell, a cage of metal around a small ball.

"This is it. Can only use it if I kick it."

Kanda stared for a moment, but didn't remain surprised for long. His expression hadn't even changed.

"That's pathetic."

Daisya tossed it up, and caught it, cutting off the ringing sound.

"So, what d'you say?"

"No."

Kanda hadn't even bothered to look at him, but Daisya's expression of mild amusement had already set.

"Think of it this way: I'm going to be useless if I don't get any practice. It's like you're training me. And I promise to go easy on ya."

Tiedoll took a moment to intervene. Though, whose side he was on was debatable.

"Daisya, Kanda doesn't nearly have the same experience with football. It's not very considerate to ask him to play against you now."

The statement was quiet and polite, and had exactly the effect it was intended to have. The General had not earned his ranking for his battle skill alone.

Kanda grumbled under his breath, and shot a heavier glare at Daisya.

" _Fine_."

…

"All right!"

Daisya laughed, and bounced the ball from one foot to another.

"That was sorta good, Kanda."

The shot in question had, completely by chance, ricocheted off a wall before hitting a crossbeam from a half-timber house at precisely the right angle to drive it straight down over Daisya's head. Kanda had been satisfied with that one.

Of course, Daisya had just stepped back and caught the ball on his knee, which made Kanda even more livid than before.

"That was useless," he said curtly, "If someone returns it like that, you're dead. Do it better this time."

"Yeah, yeah, but you can't say I'm not great at this."

Daisya kicked the ball up again, headed it, and whipped around in a roundhouse kick to drive it within a centimetre of Kanda's ear.

To Kanda's ever-increasing annoyance, Daisya was right.

…

At one point, Kanda managed to catch Daisya off guard, but that was the greatest of his successes.

The day after that, he achieved twice that.

The dust whipped up in the fading sunlight a third time, and then a fourth, killing time in the squares and side streets.

...

The inn they found a few days later should have been a nice, quiet place to get a rest. The wooden furniture was elegantly cut, if not carved, and the sheets were merely off-white instead of the usual suspicious yellow colour.

Instead, it was no less exciting than anywhere else.

Daisya's heels dug into the ground, but Kanda had firmly attached himself to the bedframe.

"No way, bastard! I haven't had a good sleep in days because of you!"

The protest would have been a roar if Kanda's face wasn't buried in the blankets.

"But Kanda, it's for your musical education," muttered Daisya through gritted teeth, "You'll enjoy it."

"No," snapped Kanda, "Go pester the old man."

Daisya let go for a moment, readjusted his grip on Kanda's ankles, and started pulling again before Kanda had a chance to kick.

"He's on the phone."

Kanda twisted to the side, almost knocking Daisya over. Geez, the kid was strong.

"Then ask Marie!"

"Nah, he'll just tell me to go to shut up."

"That's the point, imbecile!"

"Well, he's probably going to say the same to you with the racket you're making."

Kanda's momentary burst of angry, obscene indignation loosed his grip just enough for Daisya to separate him from the headboard. He hit the floor, curled up defensively by instinct, and tried to shake Daisya loose with a couple of kicks.

However, Daisya was expecting it, and pulled Kanda up by the shoulders, quickly getting him in a full Nelson. The kids in his village had been way more trouble than this.

"Hey, Marie! Kanda wants to go see the dancing. You want to come with us?"

His shout had no reply.

"Eh, he's probably somewhere else," he said to himself as Kanda shook him off.

He grabbed Kanda's hand before he had a chance to recover, and dragged him out the door.

…

Marie, as it turned out, was already leaning against the half-timber walls of the inn, listening to the music.

A vehement grumbling and annoying laughter alerted him to his company.

"So you were here, after all," said Daisya blithely.

"Yes, I heard the racket," Marie replied quietly, "But the music is good, so shut up before you ruin it."

Kanda was stewing with a bitter sort of fury, but Daisya's hand was around his wrist with his thumb on a pressure point, and Marie's comment stopped him just short making a scene.

"Hey, you wanna join them?"

Kanda kicked Daisya in the shins as he felt the brush of breath in his ear.

"No."

"Why not? You liked the note game, and dancing's fun, anyway."

"Shut up."

"Come on, just one song. Everyone's doing it."

"No."

"Aww."

Daisya looked at him with a mock-imploring gaze, then appeared to think of something.

"You at least know how to dance, don't you?"

"No, why the hell would I?"

Kanda glared as Daisya looked at him with disbelief.

"How can you not know how to dance? My sister knows how, and she's five! Just try tapping your foot to the beat, or something."

"No."

Daisya sighed.

"Spoilsport. Tell you what, I'll shut up when you ask me to until we get to Budapest."

"No."

The reply was automated, so Daisya tried again.

"I'll actually do it. How about that."

There was a brief moment of thought from Kanda.

"I hate you."

"All right!"

Daisya peeled away from the wall, dragging Kanda behind him.

"Hey! I didn't–"

"You'll pick it up fine! Just follow me."

The barrage of notes from two or three different instruments hid the melody, and Kanda couldn't hear the beat for the cross rhythms. Somehow, though, Daisya could plant his feet in the middle of all of it, and jumped on each beat like a stepping stone.

Kanda hated the speed with which he moved — he could barely keep up without tripping over his own feet.

There would be hell to pay in a couple of days.

But for now, Daisya was spinning around with an idiot grin on his face.

And at first Kanda had been tripping over his own feet.

And he still resented the fingers gripping his.

But, in his anger — at the slipperiness of the beat, and the creepy bastard dragging him around, at the sleep-deprived jitteriness of his thoughts — he felt alive.

 **I am pathetic, and I cannot think of a better word to describe the lowest depths of my soul. The main excuse I have is that Kanda is probably too tired to think properly, let alone give Daisya a good beating. Daisya, on the other hand, has an inexhaustible supply of being annoying in its purest form, and uses it as he likes. Marie, of course, just likes a good show.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A small dissertation on gifted kids - I had to spend a good deal of my school years in the same school as the kids in my city's gifted program, and from what I was able to observe, there are three things they tend to have in common.**

 **1\. They all argue like the devil. If two of them get into an argument, they will use every available piece of evidence to try and prove their point, and will only give in once each of their points has been definitely and logically refuted.**

 **2\. They get bored really easily. While in the normal junior high classes the students just sat down and listened to the teacher, the gifted classes sat around and talked, made paper cranes, played the powder game and dino run on the computer, and played connect four in math class. I'm amazed they even passed, but they did, and with flying colours, even if they did talk the building down.**

 **3\. Linked with 2, if they do some sort of activity, be it gymnastics or piano, it will be to a ridiculous extent. On kid was in ARCT piano before he finished junior high, one girl did gymnastics 3 hours a day, 6 days a week, and a kid in my choir who was in the program did debate on a national level. And these weren't supergeniuses - most of the kids in the program seemed mostly normal, and didn't invent anything extraordinary. Mostly they were slightly annoying and slightly weird.**

 **Thus, I'd say it's a 50/50 chance that Daisya, as he's characterized in the anime, is gifted. It doesn't affect his character at all, but I just found it interesting how he reminded me of some of the kids in GATE.**

 **Anyway, with that over with, the lovely Karina and Hn are back (for a moment I was a bit worried about the latter), and I must thank them infinitely for the questions, queries, comments, and compliments they offer. Without them, I might be posting every two weeks at most.**

 **This chapter is regrettably short, but it's been a short wait and I'd be a fool to waste the opportunity to cut it off where I did.**

...

Daisya flopped down on the bed with a sigh of relief. This room was nice and big, with two narrow beds along each wall, a dresser with a large kerosene lamp, and faded wooden walls and floors. It was on the second floor, too, so the ceiling was filled with rafters and crossbeams. It felt nice and airy.

"Whew, another bed! It's our lucky day."

He looked over at Kanda, who had dumped his bag at the end of his bed, and whose hair was momentarily loose, for once.

"Just be quiet."

Kanda tried to snap, but his heart wasn't in it.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Shut up."

It was only six o' clock, and he was not willing to stay awake another moment. Beds were hard to come by, and the last time they'd stayed the night in one, Daisya _had_ to drag him off.

But now he'd promised to shut up, in return. Kanda couldn't have paid him enough to do that.

"I still don't see why we all have to share a room," he grumbled, complaining to what should have been the thankfully unresponsive Daisya.

"It's cheaper, I guess."

Goddamnit.

"Shut up."

They'd even bothered to change clothes for the occasion, but Marie and Tiedoll were securing transport out the city. Austro-Hungary had nowhere near the modernization level of France or Germany, so the train lines were less reliable, and the town they were headed to was a bit of a backwater, making it even more difficult to get there speedily. Time was still a precious commodity.

Kanda wandered over to the window, to latch the shutters down. The last thing he needed was any more noise in the night, besides Daisya's tossing and Tiedoll's morning routine at 4:30 ante meridian.

He let out a sigh as he moved quickly, snapping the metal bolt over the greying wood, smoothed by wear. The window ledge was high enough up for him to need to stand on it to properly close the window, and he sent up a quick prayer that Daisya hadn't been looking to notice.

Though, if he had been, retribution would have been slow. Even with his stamina, Kanda's chest felt heavy from the fatigue of sleepless nights and days spent traveling. The air here was smoke-smelling from the fireplace and slightly stale, but he drank it in like an elixir.

A light push on the shutters proved the latch to be useless, so Kanda left them open, with an unlit kerosene lamp on the ledge. The alley outside was fairly quiet, anyway. And after so many days, Daisya's repertoire of sheet-rustling blended into the background, like the wind or the sound of voices.

Even his words blended into the background, as Kanda realized the stream of mumbling that was Daisya talking to himself had passed over his head, and that the other kid had already pulled the covers up over his head. It was a funny habit of his.

Kanda collapsed on the bed. The room was warm and dark, and the mattress was welcome after sleeping on benches. Even the muffled breathing from the other side of the room gave the silence a comforting texture, with the cooler air from the window painting across it.

That night, Kanda slept deeply enough to dream.

…

At eight o' clock, Noise Marie and General Tiedoll were still awake, sitting at the corner table downstairs. The past few hours had been a slew of theories, maps, and doubt.

"So it's possible the the whole population of the town might be akuma?" asked Marie in a low voice, "That would be difficult to achieve. Akuma have to be called back, and it's a reasonably-sized town."

Tiedoll looked to the side, begrudging his former pupil his point.

"Yes, it would logistically be a bit of a challenge, but it could happen by coincidence, if there was Innocence there that they could not find. And it would be simpler to accomplish if a broker were involved."

"Even so, they would have found the Innocence by now if it were there, and otherwise there is no reason for a town of akuma to exist."

Marie shifted position on a chair far too small for him.

"Then again," he conceded, "We have no better option as of yet."

Noah involvement had been struck down on the basis of the indiscriminate slaughter of the finders. Noah were, in a way, human. They liked style.

Had the Noah killed them, the finders would have had plenty of time to transmit one last scream.

There were some exceptions, but they had been gone over in detail and discarded. It never paid to be too careful, with the Noah. Level one akuma were predictable, if dangerous, and level twos were only trouble in numbers to a team of their strength.

Tiedoll thought for a moment, then nodded to himself.

"Would you say we have covered all possibilities?"

Marie's eyes closed for a moment, in a purely symbolic gesture.

"Yes, I believe."

Tiedoll nodded, keeping his voice even quieter than before.

"Then we shall have to leave the kids to their own devices. There's a reason we stopped here. I finder I once worked with retired here — I think we should pay him a visit."

Marie was puzzled.

"Why would a finder know what to do? Their training is for survival, not–"

Tiedoll put a finger to his lips as a more polite was of interrupting.

"Precisely, though not many make it. I imagine there is a reason this one survived to retire."

Marie nodded, yielding the argument.

A few minutes later, having paid the bill, the two exorcists headed out, walking in the even strides of those who had nothing to fear from the night.

…

In a decade or two, the Austro-Hungarian empire would be involved in the start of a war engulfing the world.

For the last few years, even decades, Austro-Hungary, or its predecessor, Austria, had been torn in either the pan-European conflicts of the nineteenth century or the equally renowned nationalist movements of the same time period.

It would so happen that, at ten o' clock at night, in Budapest, a nationalist Magyar would set fire to the inn of a pro-empire Austrian. A stone, with burning rags wrapped around it, sailed through an open window, knocking a kerosene lamp off the dresser and on to the floor. The spilt liquid quickly caught fire, and slowly the flames worked their way across the inn.

As the nature of exorcists' missions normally requires secrecy, no one was recorded as being on the second floor. By the time of the fire, the only person aware of the four beds to be filled was somewhere beyond the reach of word - namely, comatose in a bar.

That Austrian innkeeper had, hours earlier, rented the room to another Austrian, an exorcist by the name of Noise Marie.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello again, all. As a nice little treat, I decided to have a short wait time. The next wait time will be fairly short too. How nice.**

 **Karina (I assume that is your name) will be positively _ecstatic_ to hear that the reason for this is, because I am as much a sadist as I am a masochist, the next two chapters will be a harmless, irrelevant filler episode focusing on the one and only Noise Marie, because I would be a fool not to drag out a cliffhanger as long as possible. Also, the quality of this two-part is rather bad, as I typed it in a hurry, so please forgive me. I'm merely buying time.**

 **Also, to my two dear reviewers, feel free to drop me a line via pm at any time - it is summer and I am starved for company and social interaction.**

 **Finally, to Hn, feel free to comment this time using your account (I promise I will not read any of your stories without permission, or Karina's either). Thanks so much for the compliments; both you and Karina are incredibly kind, and I doubt I am deserving of it, but it is for that reason that I so enthusiastically gush in the author's notes and continue to write and post this story.**

 **Without further ado,**

 **Interlude - Noise Marie**

Noise Marie was fifteen, and on a trip home.

Of course, the fact that he was traveling near his birthplace was merely a coincidence. The purpose of his mission was to neutralize an area that had become suspiciously akuma-ridden, probably with the help of a broker - one who targets the relatives and loved ones of the recently deceased, and ensures that they call back an akuma, in exchange for payments from the Millennium Earl. They were easy to deal with, but difficult to catch, hence the Order sending Marie, whose battle skills could be improved upon, but whose mind could not.

The brief visit home enroute had been uneventful, with the typical gauntlet of over-fond aunts who somehow felt the need to pinch the cheek of a boy already far taller than them. His parents and older sisters had remained virtually unchanged from the day the General had visited, and his younger brother had merely become taller. Marie still had an edge on him, though, and the pout he'd given when he'd discovered that had showed that he hadn't changed much either. The whole family had chuckled.

But Marie was...not happy, but not sad to leave. He had no need to stay.

It had been pleasant to catch up, yes, but the air he'd breathed fine for more than a decade now seemed stifling. The few days he'd spent there, with his finder getting more and more on edge, had been enough.

For a moment, he'd wondered, before coming to a realization.

Nothing there had changed. Now that he thought about it, nothing should have changed since his birth, but for the presence of his brother.

...

His shoes now clacked down on the cobblestones of the main square of this new town, but he paid no mind to the contrast between the thud of boots on the old dirt road and the harsher noise now produced by the cobbles.

The time for that would be later.

For now, he had to determine a strategy. Though his Innocence wasn't easy to convert to combat mode, it was extraordinarily useful in detecting akuma. Most exorcists wore a disguise while traveling alone, and so posing as a busker was fairly simple. His coat and the soles of his shoes were worn enough to suggest a life spent on the road, sleeping wherever there was a flat piece of ground to be had.

To be fair, that was the case on some missions. But never mind that — the key was that no one paid much mind to an ageless-looking boy sitting between stone buildings on a blanket, plucking out a childhood tune on a makeshift harp of strings clumsily tied to a few pieces of wood. They ignored him, but regardless, the music found its way to their ears.

Sometimes, like here, he'd hum a counterpoint, covering up the strings. Sometimes, the akuma were smarter than he'd like.

From here on in, it was the task of the finder standing in the courtyard of a cafe to observe the reactions of the crowd.

...

The square and the crowd within its confines weren't so large as to be difficult to see across, but they were large enough for Marie to get a coin or two in the cap he placed in front of him. At one end, a simple gothic-style church overlooked the milling mass of humanity, complemented by three walls formed of shops, bakeries, and a few houses.

He looked around for a moment, admiring the carvings around the doors of the church, then quickly looked back at the instrument as a shadow moved in the corner of his eye. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on the ground. He hoped the akuma here wouldn't be too observant.

A woman passed close, fine-stitched shoes marking her as a merchant, or the wife of one. Over top of them, the end of a muslin skirt swayed. Akuma, not akuma. Akuma, not akuma.

There was a way to deal with her, regardless.

Marie nodded at her. A friendly gesture. Then he smiled, but added an edge of the hunger of a destitute. That normally did it. If she stayed a moment longer, he'd hold out a hand expectantly. Even the most fascinated of watchers balked at the thought of giving money.

But happily, she wandered back into the crowd as quickly as she'd materialized out of it.

...

The song echoed out against the stone, playing out for a few more measures before he switched to a more dance-like tune.

As he shifted his fingers, a quick glance up to the finder revealed that the crowd was about half-and-half — a broker was definitely facilitating the Earl in his work.

The akuma would have to be eliminated, but not before the broker was found. They were observant, knowing that their lives were worthless to those nominally in the service of God. Any disappearances and fights would be duly noted, and before the day was up the town would be missing a cleric or a doctor. Or, in one odd case, a dentist.

Marie continued to play after this conclusion, the reasons for which were threefold.

1\. He would still need time to deduce the location of the broker.

2\. Stopping too early would attract suspicion.

3\. A little extra money was never a bad thing.

The finder had disappeared for now, likely to pay a visit to the office of the local bookkeeper, and then to any hospitals she could find. Marie would have a look at the church once he was done playing. If anyone saw the two of them together, they were both wandering workers, traveling together for protection. She was a seamstress and occasionally an accountant, he a busker and music teacher. The Order's training was fairly comprehensive for anyone wishing to specialize.

...

In fact, he'd often wondered why Beatrycze (for all her stocky build and six feet of height, nicknamed Trixie) was a finder in the first place. She was certainly skilled enough to be a tailor, and her aptitude for mathematics would have made her at home in the office of a Lord.

As with most finders, you didn't ask questions. Though Trixie had been a fairly regular companion for the years he'd been at the order, he knew her no more than he did his aunts.

Until they quit, finders were walking corpses. Any friendship or otherwise was discouraged.

In the end, because he couldn't let a question go without at least one explanation, he'd decided that she was as much a thrill seeker as were some of the younger exorcists: she took mostly one-exorcist missions, where the finder was essentially a bipedal telephone, compass, encyclopaedia, and work horse.

Perhaps a life behind a sewing machine or a set of books would never allow her peace.

Whatever the reason, Trixie was efficient, and they'd both run these types of mission before. As mentioned before, the difficulty was not in the planning, but in the execution.

One bullet was a death sentence, unless you resorted to self-mutilation. Akuma either had to be dealt with stealthily, in small groups, or all at once. From the looks of this town, and the number people wincing as they passed, Marie would be glad of his strings' ability to paralyze and isolate akuma. He'd probably do that, and get Trixie to round up as many as she could in barriers before wiping them out all at once.

But first, they'd kill the broker.

...

Theoretically, Innocence could not kill.

Realistically, the strings were strands of metal that could as easily garrotte a human as an akuma. This made many things tricky for equip-type users and some parasite-types. The young girl who had just joined — Antonina, her name was — had strangled a dog in self-defence with the Innocence in her hair before being brought to the order.

Poor Antonina. She loved to play the piano.

...

Now, that aside, would a town this small have a hospital? It was once far larger, but that was no guarantee the building would still be operating…

…

The strings played a last diminished chord as Marie decided that the broker was most likely working out of the church. The crowd in front had been losing its akuma concentration when he'd started playing, so likely there was just a high initial density to protect the church.

He bowed for posterity — no one had stayed to watch the simple boy with his simple instrument — and packed up his bag. No one wondered why a busker had a pack with enough pockets to hold five dollars' worth of fossilized penny candy. They just parted as he passed on his way through the church doors.

Actually, that last bit was untrue. The crowd parted for a short funeral procession of two mourners, and a coffin no more than four feet long.

Marie quickly stood off to the side, and considered thanking God for the luck of having someone die so conveniently. He decided against it. From what he'd seen and heard, God might not be appreciative of that particular wording.

...

The procession passed in short order, and the crowd flowed back over the path like the Red Sea.

Marie slid between bodies, apologizing for each stepped-on foot, and walked softly though the church's side door.

It was like entering another world, of silence and darkness.

From the grey-lit antechamber, he could hear the eulogist speaking on the virtues of the deceased, namely that her life had been devoid of sin, and so she was rewarded with an early ticket to heaven.

Marie hoped briefly that the eulogist was right, but from the one voice be heard sobbing, he doubted that the mourner would give up the chance to have the child back. They never did. They never do.

A pity.

He leaned against the wall, out of sight, and waited for the speech to end. If he could take care of the broker here, Trixie could search for data linking to the Earl.

He ran his fingers over the stone as a pastime. Not too finely carved…maybe limestone?

In half a decade, he would be able to identify the type of stone by touch.

He waited in the half-light. Marie was good at waiting.

Though, he never quite knew what he was waiting for.


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm back again with part 2 of the miscellaneously low-quality filler story, so sit tight and next chapter, I promise, the cliffhanger of where we left our main characters will be resolved. Somewhat. Anyhow, thanks to Karina, as Hn does not seem to have appeared in the last few days.**

 **As everyone here knows, Daisya is practically a non-entity in the manga and is a 3-episode (and like 40 seconds at the end of episode 34) wonder, and the fandom hasn't really been active in years, so to find fanfiction is quite a task, as some of the stuff on this website is too badly written for me to glean even the barest amount of meaning from it. This has led to me spending quite a while trawling about on livejournal like some post-apocalyptic fisherman trying to find species and artifacts from a bygone era. Needless to say, if you've got time and patience (the site is like the unholy offspring of facebook, tumblr, and the online pet game forums I used in grade eight) it can be quite productive for finding fanfic about minor characters.**

 **Had I any real skill with drawing, I would make illustrations for this, as I have a very clear image of what each scene is supposed to look like, and it is generally significant to the scene. Alas, it does not translate well to the writing. If a section appears particularly choppy or dialogue-filled, visualizing the scene from the description may help. I cannot stress enough that this is not a good chapter, but I can't rework it to make it better without destroying and replacing it, so my apologies.**

 **Anyhow, hopefully you enjoy your reading to some degree or another.**

The service rambled and rambled, and Marie was more than prepared to slip silently into the sanctuary once it reached its inevitable conclusion.

The few attendees slipped out, until two remained. The sobbing man, and the priest.

Marie tried to make out the conversation. His hearing was naturally good, and the church's acoustics were excellent.

"…I'm sure she would enjoy a second chance here on earth…"

So the priest _was_ the broker. Hopefully Trixie would be back soon.

He started to edge into the sanctuary, careful not to make noise or sudden movement.

"Do you really think so?" the sobber asked, voice choked. From the depth of his tones, he was likely her father or an adult brother.

"Yes. I am a messenger of God."

That was remarkably conceited.

"If you're sure–"

Marie took a deep breath.

"Excuse me!"

The embarrassingly polite interjection echoed off the archways, and Marie chose the moment to walk down the centre aisle. His deep voice would likely grant him some authority, and even better if they didn't guess his age in the half-light of a cloudy day, but he wasn't cut out for this sort of thing. He'd try to use the authority of an exorcist. His entrance would help too — watching the General and the other Generals and taught him the effect of gravitas.

"The child died sinless. Why should we take that from her?"

Marie hoped the the echoes would give the impression of an oracle. Winning the argument was the best bet, but doing so by insistence was also an option. Probably the better choice for this situation, at least. Logic was never useful in the face of human emotion.

"Wha'…" the sobber broke off, looking dazed, then indignant, "How do you know?"

Marie had reached the two of them, and the priest still looked too surprised to speak. He produced the badge of an exorcist.

"I am an exorcist, in the name of God. She will be happy, like this."

"Will…will she?"

Marie felt a tinge of satisfaction at being able to gauge the situation. The mourner was obviously in no fit state to reason.

"Yes."

"Promise?"

Maybe her older brother, then. He seemed childish–

"No."

The priest had decided to speak again.

"You'd listen to this– this _child_ over the priest?" he sputtered, rage imprinted on his face.

For a moment, the priest had given up his even-voiced dignity. That was what Marie needed. He was rather proud of his next line, which he made up on the spot.

"And you would stop the girl from ascending to heaven? Let her have her happiness."

"You–!"

Marie had been bluffing on an empty hand since the beginning. Raising another time was simple.

"I am an exorcist, in the name of God the almighty! Who are you to go against me?"

The priest looked back to the mourner, who seemed to still be in a state of shock.

"Say her name! She's calling for you, say her name…"

The mourner looked for a moment as if he were about to speak, and Marie cut in before the argument could go on for too much longer. The akuma would be coming pretty soon.

"No."

Marie raised a hand, and let the strings unfurl in a blaze of light and music. It filled the church, nearly blinding, and streamed out of the windows, illuminating the pale colour of the stone and the brilliance of the stained glass windows. A little showing-off did more good than harm, and now the mourner was paralyzed in awe, and could not see or hear the movement of the Innocence.

Marie performed the execution switfly. The strings curled around the priest, first gagging him, then wrapping around his neck.

"May you be saved from your sins, as was the girl."

"Marie spoke the words as he would a verse, and tightened the strings around the priest's neck, adding another burst of light and sound to block out the struggling and shouting. He knew that this was the right course of action, but the sobber might be confused.

The chord echoed off of the walls, and the light still blazed out of the windows, attracting the attention of akuma. When Marie let the sensations fade, he knew he had maybe a minute.

"Stay here," he said to the man, who had rushed over to the priest's body, "You're in danger."

"Did you…?"

"Innocence cannot harm humans," Marie said comfortingly, turning to leave. It was the truth.

…

Marie didn't bother to look when he ran out the church doors, instead releasing his strings to tie themselves between the church and the other buildings. One attached itself to the thatched roof of a tailor, one to the chimney of a bakery, and more criss-crossing over top of and through the square. A net of wire would leave him exposed for a moment, but a moment was all he needed.

The net cast a moving shadow for a moment, and the humans started to run in their confusion. How handy.

The strings tautened, and held fast. Three seconds, that was all he needed.

He visualized the chord. A tritone on top of a tritone, and then a minor second on top of that. A chord discomfiting for most humans, and agony for akuma when transmitted through the strings.

...

It rang out at an impossible volume, bouncing off the walls of stone. If Trixie wasn't already on her way, she'd come running. He hoped he wouldn't need the assistance of a barrier but, well, you never know.

The surviving exorcists knew that very, very well.

Some akuma fell to the ground as he played, others merely doubled over, and most immediately transformed. The majority of the crowd was akuma, and the few remaining humans would run away when all hell broke loose.

That was, in fact, a second later, when Marie untied four of his strings and ripped into the akuma like a wolf's teeth into a throat.

…

The mounds of dust covering in the square were blowing away, shifting like sands over the grey paving stones. Marie let himself catch his breath, and doubled over. He'd only just managed to save the last one. A moment longer and he, too, would be dust.

A voice spoke up from behind him.

"I guess the guy _was_ in the church."

Trixie. She was probably somewhat miffed not to have caught any action.

"Yes."

She walked up beside him, facing backwards and holding a barrier-maker in each hand, each spewing light into the sky.

Marie's eyes widened at the sight, and he instinctively whipped around to where two akuma were hovering, trapped behind him.

"You missed a couple," Trixie said dryly, "You owe me a drink."

Marie nodded.

"Thank you. I acquiesce."

Another voice spoke up from behind the two of them, and Marie turned around. Grey sky matched grey stone, and the grey face of the mourner.

"I was watching," he said sheepishly, "Were those things 'akuma'?"

Marie looked at Trixie, then back to the mourner.

"Yes."

"Oh."

It was an odd little tableau. Trixie, facing out of the square, still keeping the akuma trapped. Marie, facing inwards, and smiling the stiff grin of the taciturn confronted with speech. The third piece was the mourner, holding a beaten cap in both hands, facing Marie with an identical grimace.

There was an awkward gap in the conversation, which Marie attempted to fill.

"What's your name?"

"Joseph Hofer."

"What's your profession."

"Innkeeper."

Marie nodded kindly.

Very good. I shall remember that."

Marie produced a notepad and the stub of a pencil from one of his pockets, and wrote down the name. He nodded at Joseph, who nodded back absently.

"I would advise moving to a larger city. You may get more patrons."

Marie turned - to finish off the akuma Trixie was holding - before Joseph spoke for a last time.

"Wait…" he started, hesitantly, "Who are you?"

"Beatrycze Krawczyk…" muttered Trixie, still facing away.

"…and Noise Marie," Marie continued, "We may well see you again."

He turned back, and unfurled a handful of strings.

…

It was eight o' clock, two hours prior to the nationalist's act of arson. Tiedoll and Marie were having a time of finding their way to the bridge across the river.

"That innkeeper seemed awfully glad to see you," Tiedoll mused, "Were you the one who got his name for us?"

The exorcists had lists of trusted innkeepers, coach-drivers, and members of any other profession the exorcists had use of. It wasn't much, but generally it was enough. The names on the list knew enough about akuma never to summon one.

"Yes," Marie replied, "I believe so. I ran into him when I was on my trip home…six years ago, I think."

They turned a corner, weaving through an alley. The light was going fairly quickly, and already the streets were lit with lanterns.

"Mmm. That was a mission with Trixie, right?"

Marie didn't know why the General bothered to memorize the names of the finders, but somehow it seemed right that he should do it.

"Yes. Two years before she died, I believe."

"That was a pity. She was a good finder."

"Yes."

 **If Marie seems a bit callous in this chapter, particularly when contrasted with his character being exceedingly kind, I just imagine that he'd have been quite shy as a kid, which translates to far more awkward and socially unskilled conversation. It would have taken him quite a while to become as comfortable with everyone as he is in the manga proper. Also, this is pre-20th century Europe, so religion is far more of a guiding force. There would have been no doubt that the priest deserved to die, as he betrayed the church.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Before starting this chapter, I must first thank Karina for faithfully reviewing this fic, regardless of chapter quality, filler arcs, and a surplus of paragraph breaks. You are a credit to readers in general, and reviewers in particular.**

 **Secondly, as Hn does not appear to have been around the past two weeks, I have no alternative but to assume that they have been the tragic victim of a car crash, or possibly has been taking prisoner during an uber-secret Quebec-based spy operation. One can never know. I offer my condolences to friends and family, and their enthusiastic and friendly reviews will be sorely missed.**

 **Thirdly, before wondering about logic, I urge you to remember the following: adrenaline, sleep-deprived delirium, and the odd, odd structure of the juvenile mind.**

 **I apologize for the wait.**

Daisya woke up to the smell of smoke hanging in the air, and the sensation of burning heat.

The sharp intake of breath scraped through his throat like sandpaper, the smoke already clouding his eyes and making them sting. Fire. It wasn't here yet, but it would be soon.

He tried to get up, tangling himself with his blankets before he fell to the floor, coughing. The wooden floor was hot. Through blurred eyes, he picked out the red glow behind the door, eating away at it.

They had a few minutes. The door wasn't an option, so he'd have to jump out the window. It was about fifteen feet, or so. If they were both awake, and preferably with something softer than packed dirt beneath them, they could make it. He'd jumped out windows before, though those ones had been a lot closer to the ground. The old man and Marie didn't seem to be here, so they wouldn't be any help. Exorcists traveled in secret, and the innkeeper would have gotten them if he'd been around, or conscious.

So they were on their own.

Daisya pulled the collar of his shirt over his mouth, and took a deep breath. They had to get out of there.

In a flash of movement, grabbed the bed frame to pull himself up, and recoiled. It was metal, and hot enough to leave a burn. He quickly stuck his fingers in his mouth, and stayed low to the ground, making his way to Kanda's bed. Despite the heat and the smoke, he didn't seem to have woken up. Weird. And, Daisya saw as he approached, he was tossing about as if fighting something in his sleep.

"Kanda, wake up! Kanda!"

Daisya stood up, eyes narrowed in the smoke, and shook Kanda by the shoulders. If he didn't wake up soon, he'd be sick from the smoke.

"Kanda!"

The fire started eating through the door as the exorcist's head lolled, and his lips moved imperceptibly.

"Alma…"

Daisya winced as he heard the crackling. Not much time left, but he still had some. The old man and Marie might have more important stuff in their bags than just a few spare clothes. He'd best grab them.

He dragged Kanda out of the bed and across the floor, laying him down underneath the window. If he tossed Kanda out unconscious, the best he'd come off with was some bruising or a broken leg. At worst, he'd be dead. Necks were pretty easy to break, he'd been told.

He ran back into the room, shielding his face with his hands. The fire was past the door now, so this was not a smart idea, but he couldn't wake Kanda up, and he couldn't jump with him without breaking something. Doing this, the worst he'd come off with was burns. And besides, he was used to the heat and the smoke. Bodrum without brush fires was like a day there without sunshine. Never happened.

He grabbed the old man's bag, then the rest of theirs for good measure. They weren't so heavy, now that he thought about it. Actually, minus the heat and the smoke, he felt alive.

A flame licked closer to his feet, and he skidded backwards. That was close. Now the flames were halfway up the two beds closest to the door, and moving quickly. He half crawled, half ran back to the window. The smoke was getting thicker by the moment.

What Daisya didn't know or notice was that the attic, full of dry straw and dust, was already ablaze, and working its way through the ceiling.

The door was coals, and flames curled off the floor and the ceiling. Daisya dragged the last backpack beneath the window, keeping low to the ground. Kanda still hadn't woken up, which wasn't good. He'd have to jump with him, but the bags would break the fall. If they were lucky, they'd get away with a twisted ankle or two.

Daisya stood up, pushed open the shutters, and flung the lamp behind him. Waiting a few moments longer would kill time. Kanda and Marie would probably say it would kill him too, but it gave just a few more moments for Kanda to wake up. People were staying away from the burning inn, so there was a chance the backpacks would still be there when they had to jump.

One, two, three, four. The flames snaked across the room. The heat was unbearable, but even so he took his shirt off, balling it up and tossing it out the window. Better a small burn on your skin than your clothing on fire. That's what they said.

It was hot as hell, and dry as a desert.

Just like home.

"Kanda!"

One last shout and a kick, and a pair of dark eyes blinked open.

"Daisya…"

The word was a gasp, and Kanda's eyes looked red and raw.

"What are you...what the hell is going on?!"

The tail of the sentence flicked up in panic as Kanda took in the scene. He tried to stagger to his feet.

But Daisya had already slung Kanda's arm over his shoulder, and stood up. He could barely see back into the room for smoke and flames. Coals had started to fall from the ceiling, marking the floor.

"Inn's on fire. You've got to jump."

Daisya pushed Kanda up to the window, which was just low enough for him to climb up on to the sill.

Kanda looked down on to the street, and Daisya saw a ghost moving somewhere behind his eyes.

Alma…

He tried to keep his voice calm, but the fire was close. Kanda had been shielded by his distance and now by the air outside, but he already suspected he was pretty burnt up. He'd regret this, later.

"Kanda, you've got to jump!"

Kanda seed oddly frozen.

Something heavy and wooden fell a few feet behind him, but Daisya didn't bother to look. His heart was already hammering in his ears. He'd wasted too much time.

"Kanda!"

Daisya heard something closer to him crack, and finally gave into the urge to look.

The fire was a few feet from him, almost at the fallen lamp, and embers were practically raining from the ceiling. The heavy wooden crossbeam above the window was weakening by the moment. He could feel the hairs crisping on the back of his neck.

Something jumped up and down in his memory, sticking out its tongue in a desperate attempt to attract his attention.

There was something liquid around his feet.

The lamp. The glass spilling kerosene.

"I…can't…"

He was barely aware of Kanda's murmur, but the world suddenly aligned in his mind.

...

Kanda felt frozen. Hideously frozen.

He remembered a cliff from…that time. Just before he met Marie.

He had to jump.

He had to jump.

Alma…

He couldn't hear the fire crackling behind him, eating at the wood.

Alma…

He was vaguely aware of Daiysa's yelling.

Alma…

 _Alma…_

"I can't…"

Kanda felt a hand in the small of his back.

...

Daisya gave a small laugh, and pushed.

Kanda fell out of the window as the crossbeam fell, and the flames found the lamp. There was the sound of falling embers and flying glass and wordless agony.

Two voices screamed.

" _DAISYA!_ "


	13. Chapter 13

**Thanks very much to karina001 and Hn (who remains alive) for commenting on here, and to NTLeo for commenting over on ao3. Not much to say, but where it is ambiguous who someone is talking about in this chapter, there may be two people meant to be the subject of the words. Or I've just forgotten to use names instead of pronouns again. You all may never know.**

Marie heard the scream of…rage?

No — not just one scream. Two. One came after that spoke of pain, like the one that had torn from his throat when his eyes were slashed, and the first one that was similar in texture. Anger mixed with something indefinable, and poured into the shape of a word.

There was something in it that pierced through the strata of the mind and hit the button marked 'run'.

It was dark out in Budapest, but the myriad lights of the city polluted the sky with light, forming an orange glow that faded as it climbed up into the darkness of the horizon. Down the crooked street, and over the thatch and tile rooves, had he sight he would have been able to see the half of the city blockaded by a river. He could hear the faint rushing of the water, winding lazily, and the crackling of a dozen fires — both within the hearths of the shops and houses surrounding him, and without.

In the air, there was the faintly bitter scent of smoke, as of things burning that should never have been hot.

Oh, no…

"General — that was Kanda."

He said it as calmly as possible, so as not to draw attention, but he could hear his heart start to speed up. The General must have heard the scream in some capacity.

The gutters and alleyways were pitch black by now, so no one could see them where they paused. Just out of the light of a wrought-iron street lamp, Marie's posture had changed, coiling like a spring.

He heard the General take in a breath.

"I can see something burning."

Marie nodded gravely. He was rarely wrong, however much he regretted it.

"May I suggest we run?"

Tiedoll spoke calmly, but in a brighter tone than Marie was used to.

"Yes."

...

Two figures took off through the streets, running quickly for their size.

Tiedoll felt his breath hanging ragged in his lungs. The kids could take care of themselves — Kanda especially, and even Daisya had been held on a loose rein by his parents — but the two of them would have been sound asleep. And Daisya was all too difficult to wake up…

They turned another dark corner, and the street was filled with noises of indignation.

If cutting through the crowds as through akuma could have made them move any faster, Tiedoll would not have hesitated.

…

Daisya had held his breath in pain, preparing to let it out with a gasp as he crashed on to the ground. He was surrounded by flames, and he was sure he was bleeding in more than a few places from the glass shards. It felt like he was on fire. Actually, he probably was on fire.

Still, the adrenaline coursing through him didn't allow for a lapse in movement.

As if in a dream, he launched himself forwards, perching on the window ledge. He looked down, though he didn't see much. The smoke stung his eyes, and drew out tears. Kanda would have gotten out of there now, with a few of the bags if he had any sense, so the ground would be hard, and gritty with dirt and stones and–

Unconsciously, he winced.

No. He had to jump. He had to jump. Remember what happened to Kanda?

Better a broken arm than broken lungs, better pain than passing out.

He pressed the heel of his hand into the ledge, and pushed off.

...

Four seconds.

The night air was warm from the blaze, but cool compared to the furnace he'd escaped. It flowed over him as he fell, and he let the tension in him uncoil.

They'd said that it kept your insides from getting messed up if you got hit hard. They said you could survive a pretty high fall when you did that.

Three seconds.

Even so, he'd probably break something.

Maybe an arm? And then he'd get his burns ground into the dirt and rocks and–

This was going to hurt like seven hells.

This was not a good idea.

Two seconds.

 _Why hadn't he–_

There was the sound of cloth moving.

One second–

…

He fell heavily, and gasped in pain and shock.

It was going to be weeks before it stopped hurting.

Wait–

Nothing was broken. There was no telltale snap of bone.

He was in the air, not on the ground, with the dirt grinding into his skin.

Fingers curled over his shoulder, and there was the brush of air as whatever held him moved.

Someone had caught him.

He opened his eyes.

Kanda stared ahead, something flickering in his eyes, behind the blankness.

…

Marie rounded the corner, following the General's footsteps. He had to admit, at times like this, sight would have been an advantage. The heat was radiating in waves, and the crackling noise filled the air.

"Oh, thank god you're safe. Is Daisya okay? What happened…"

A quick flurry of words ensued, with the General's voice shaking like the timbers of the inn and Kanda's replies stayed even, and hushed to the point of murmuring. They both had the right to have been shaken.

However, the exact words of the General and the child were drowned out by his own thoughts.

There were a few things that were unexpected about the scene.

Kanda's survival expected, but there was one question Marie felt form on his tongue.

If Kanda had survived unharmed, why had it been Kanda screaming?

…

Tiedoll was relieved to see both of his apprentices alive, but he still needed to hear the story. Kanda looked almost shaken-up — something that was neither expected nor comforting. His eyes slipped to one side or the other, sunken in their sockets.

"Don't remember when we fell asleep," Kanda had said, as if searching his memory, "The fire was inside the door when I woke up. Couldn't see too well. Thought Daisya was awake. I got the bags, but then I had to go get Daisya. Had to carry him out. The rafters were weak. The lamp exploded."

The story had rolled out somewhat robotically, but it was in Kanda's style of speech — short and choppy.

Tiedoll put it out of mind as he examined the full extent of Daisya's injuries. His back, neck, and legs were burnt, and he was covered in blood from where the shards of glass had hit him. From the look of the damage, it was a wonder both of them had gotten out. Scarring was inevitable, but these days there were few exorcists intact in both mind and body. Daisya would have to choose just one. There still might have been some stuck in his skin, but he couldn't see properly in the light. Best to assess the damage, and fix it than dwell upon the consequences.

Oh, well.

It was bad, but broken bones could have crippled him for months. He might still be able to fight, depending on the speed of his recovery.

Better to dally here than to waste another exorcist.

He announced his findings to Marie and Kanda, and picked the boy up. They needed to find a hospital.

Just this once, he thanked God for Kanda's suicidal urge to save.

…

Kanda examined the sky in agitation. Agitation at what, he couldn't say, to his annoyance. He could say it was because he could feel the seconds trickling by as doubtlessly another team of finders met their demise. But he couldn't. They were finders. That was their job.

He'd like to say it was because he felt angry at being forced to stay here, held back from doing the only job he had in order to watch some brat sleep the day away in off-white sheets in a less-white room.

Mostly he was angry at Daisya.

Why?

Because he threw him out a damn window, that's why!

Is it really?

Do you remember why you wouldn't jump?

Yes, but that was just for a moment, he didn't have to push me, the bastard!

You're awfully agitated. You were thinking of Alma, weren't you?

Shut up.

And do you remember what Alma did?

He killed people.

He also pushed you off a cliff.

Yeah, but killing people is more important than that. It wasn't even a cliff.

He made you fall. He saved you.

Yeah, what's your point?

You should know.

 _Shut up!_

The words escaped Kanda's lips, albeit in a whisper.

He was angry at Daisya.

No, he _hated_ Daisya.

He was chatty, creepy, and obnoxious.

He had pushed him out of the window, then asked him to lie about it.

Bastard.

Bastard bastard bastardbastard _bastard._

He hated him.

Kanda hated him.

…

This is after. First there was before.

…

"Hey, Kanda?"

Kanda leaned Daisya against the wall, far enough from the inn for the air to be cool. The boy gasped as he felt the rough wood on his blistered back, and the world seemed to darken for a moment.

"What?"

The answer was flat, as it was calculated to be.

Kanda's face blurred again, and Daisya's grimace resembled a grin for a moment.

"Could…could you do me a favour?" he asked, breathing heavily.

Kanda ignored him, propping him up against a bag he'd grabbed. The shock and pain from the fire and the fatigue they both felt were taking their toll on Daisya. He'd be out in a few seconds.

"The…old man'll be pretty mad if I…tell him…what happened–"

Daisya broke off, coughing. Despite keeping close to the ground, he'd breathed in a lot of smoke.

"…anyway, don't tell him that I pushed you."

The words tumbled out in a whisper, and there was another rasping breath.

"You think you can make up a story?"

Daisya grinned, but his teeth were gritted. In a few seconds, he was going to faint. The ashes from the ceiling had been like a grey snow. He could feel them on his skin, scraping into the burns.

Kanda hadn't answered yet — he was just glaring at him, glaring at him. He did glare, didn't he? Mean, wasn't it, Kanda? But you're not like that _all_ the time, Kanda, answer me, _answer me…_

The world went black.


	14. Chapter 14

**Thanks very much to Karina for commenting, though I can't say much for the remaining four of you. Anyhow, the first part of this story has finished (though the word count is about a third of the total.) Read, enjoy (if possible), and please review. And again, if anyone's got a character, ship, or headcanon they desperately want acknowledged, PM me. I won't guarantee I can include it, but any ideas are good story fuel.**

Daisya's world was still dark.

But now he was in a bed.

A nice bed, even if it did smell like soap. Everything smelled like soap.

He opened his eyes, and winced at the light. It took a few moments before he could even see what was in the room. Well, it wasn't really a room. Two of its walls were suspiciously yellowing curtains.

The old man was standing there, in the corner, with some other lady in a nurse's outfit. She was saying something in a low voice, but the old man politely put a finger to his lips. Damn. He'd have liked to hear the rest of that, though she was probably speaking in German or something. A few scars would be awesome, but if it was anything more than that it would get really inconvenient.

And he remembered the pain.

"Ah, Daiysa, it looks like you've finally woken up."

The old man smiled at him, and he shrugged, putting a hand to the back of his skull. He was pretty sure — yep, most of his hair had burned off. It would take a while to grow it back.

"Yup. How long was I out?"

"Not too long. You slept through the night well enough, and I believe it's around noon."

The old man was pretty good, so Daisya couldn't tell if he was lying or not. He probably was.

"I haven't looked at a clock in a while, and I do believe I left my watch with Kanda and Marie."

It was all he could do not to wince in recollection. Maybe, if he was really lucky, Kanda would wait 'til he was all healed before kicking him into oblivion.

"But all that aside," the old man finished, "How are you feeling?"

The sentence jolted Daisya's mind off of one track, and back on to the physical rails. He screwed up his face briefly, trying to analyze the input from his nerves. Best not to say too much about what happened, until he found out if Kanda had actually done what he'd told him to.

Not much chance, but eh, who knows? Sometimes you can get lucky.

"Pretty good. I'm a bit tired. Feels like I got a really bad sunburn."

Tiedoll couldn't help but chuckle at his apprentice's understatement. Daisya's injuries were some of the uglier burns he'd seen - they weren't so bad as a broken limb, but they would leave a mark. Hopefully not too much of one.

But exorcists didn't really have love lives, anyway. A disfigurement would just give Daisya credibility.

"Yes, that could be a good analogy. Kanda said that you got hit by a ceiling joist when he was carrying you out, so that would probably be the cause of most of your blistering. And apparently the cuts are from flying glass."

So Kanda did lie. Now _that_ was interesting.

"I must say," the old man continued, "I can't leave the two of you alone for more than a few minutes without you getting into some sort of trouble."

Daisya wasn't an expert, but the old man seemed to be hiding something. Whatever it was disappeared from his face when the nurse stepped up beside him, wiping her reddened hands on a cloth. Everything in this hospital seemed to be a bit worn - the sheets were threadbare, the wood was nearly grey, and the nurse's eyes looked to be short of a few nights' sleep.

"You should be glad there is no infection yet," she said choppily, "Otherwise you would be in lots of trouble."

A glare signalled that Daisya would also be in lots of trouble if he tried arguing, so he nodded. Nurses, he'd found out on various occasions, were not to be messed with. Not only did they have to deal with the doctors and the patients, they had to clean up the hospitals and work the worst hours. If you wanted a hospital's worth of people dead or diseased, just give the nurses a day off. They'd be glad of it.

He watched as the nurse muttered something in a different language to Tiedoll, and swept off. She obviously didn't approve of whatever got him there, in the first place.

Speaking of which, it was pretty weird what he was feeling. Which was basically nothing. The pain last night - if it was last night - had made him want to faint. Now he just felt fine.

"So, when are we leaving?" he asked, turning back, "The most important member of the team's awake, now. It'll get boring if we stay."

His natural support of selfish pride deflated slightly when he saw the old man's expression.

Actually, now that his eyes had grown used to the light, the room looked darker than it should be.

"Aw," he whined, drawing out the syllables,"Don't tell me we'll have to say here. We've got to get to the finders, right?"

The old man shook his head slightly, and tapped the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up his face. He avoided looking up. It was never a good side when adults were scared to look at you.

"Well," he said carefully, "The problem is…we do have to get there as soon as possible. Even staying here now is wasting time. But the type of burns you have really should have a few weeks to heal. The scarring can be permanent."

In the moment, the scene was incongruous. The old man, standing at the end of the bed as if at an audience, and the child staring, as always, with the iron self-centredness found in both sociopaths and a certain type of military general. The window, carefully positioned to throw light on the patient, added to the air of a court.

Daisya started to retort, to say that there was no way in hell he was staying here while Kanda got to go. Not in a million years.

But then he stopped, realizing what the old man had said, and grinned.

"That's it? Just scars?"

Daisya laughed.

"No way that's going to keep me here."

The old man's gaze took on the tones of a glare. Geez, he must have been worried if he was this nasty about it. They all had stuff to get to, so why waste time? He had to ask Kanda about why he lied. And about Alma. About a lot of things, actually, and the old man was fretting about _this_.

"It's not just–"

Daisya waved a hand, brushing the argument aside.

"Yeah, will I die?"

He didn't give the old man a chance to answer.

"No, but I'll be bored as he– as anything here."

...

Also I didn't save Kanda's ass so he could go traipsing off without me, he added in the privacy of his own mind. And Marie should be grateful to me, so he shouldn't go either. And you shouldn't go without me. I'm your student.

I'm not going to get stuck waiting in some boring old town.

You shouldn't go.

You're not going to leave.

Don't do it.

Don't leave me here.

Not again.

Unconsciously, his fingers had curled into fists.

...

The old man held his stare for a few moments, then sighed.

"You should stay."

"Yeah, probably."

There was another sigh.

"Very well."

The old man turned to the nurse, and bowed slightly, out of habit as well as courtesy.

"Nurse," he said in German, "I'm afraid I have to request the patient be discharged. There is a matter we have to attend to."

…

Kanda watched the trains go by, rattling along the tracks. The look on his face was bored, almost blank, contrasting with his typical sullenness.

"What time is it?" he asked, rattling off the words almost robotically. The clock tower was out of sight, after all.

"Eleven fifty-six."

Marie listened to the clangs of steel on steel and the whistling of steam. Then the squealing of metal without enough grease.

"Tiedoll'd better come back soon. That bastard's gonna waste too much time."

Marie looked shocked, as much as was possible behind his glasses.

"Kanda–!"

Kanda shook his head.

"Daisya, I mean."

Had he been able to see, a splash of colour would have caught Marie's eye. As normal, Kanda was fidgeting.

Not quite as normal, his fingernails bit into his skin hard enough to draw blood.

"He's wasted too much of our time."

Kanda's words were without emotion. Had they been spoken though gritted teeth, Marie would have felt far more at ease.

"It has been days since we left — a few hours can't make too much difference," he said comfortingly, "Anyway, the General said we should leave as soon as he wakes up — we don't have to bring him along."

"Still."

Something else seemed to be on Kanda's mind. The fire had probably upset him, linking back to the wretched childhood Marie had only glimpsed.

"Don't worry. We'll be in time."

…

Well, the bandages would take some getting used to, but Daisya thought he was pretty lucky overall. No broken bones, no nothing. Sure he was hyped up on some drug they said came from opium, but the old man said the nurse gave them enough to get them through a week or so. Anyway, everyone knew that opium gave you good dreams. All you had to do was keep moving.

And that wouldn't be a problem because geez, was the old man was in a hurry. What was the occasion?

Well, probably some more dead finders, but that was their _job_.

I mean, it's never nice to die, but some people just do. A few hours don't make any difference.

Oh, well. The old man probably thinks it does.

Daisya skipped on one foot, and broke into a run to keep up. The train station was just a few minutes away.


	15. Chapter 15

**And just when I was considering blackmailing you all into reviewing with a cliffhanger, serendipity strikes in the form of waterlit and lostinmusation, who have given me a deluge of feedback alongside such regulars as karina001 and Hn, so thank you, thank you, _thank you_ , and thank yourselves, because this way you're getting more writing more quickly. **

**To answer a couple of questions before moving on: Kanda and Daisya are either 10 and 11 or 11 and 12 in this part of the fic. The wiki's a bit vague, so I thought that Kanda and Daisya were the same age when I wrote it, but it appears the general consensus is that Daisya is a year older than Kanda. I haven't been able to find out when Kanda got out of the testing facility and got apprenticed to Tiedoll, so that affects things a bit. Also, it depends on whether Kanda was apprenticed to Tiedoll during the testing, or otherwise. It's most likely that they're 11 and 12, but when I wrote it they were both 11. Marie would be 21, and because I failed to check the wiki before mentioning bits, Lenalee went through her confinement when she was 7, and not 9. Hopefully that clears that bit up.**

 **Edit, in light of Magician's info: Screw the dgm timeline, I'm making up my own. This one is nearly identical to the original, except for the following: everything is two years earlier. Kanda returned to the Black Order just before Tiedoll picked up Daisya, age 11. Daisya stayed with Tiedoll for basically a year (this takes place about a year after Tiedoll found him) and Lenalee got released before Daisya came to the Order. From then on things happen at the proper time (Lavi will come to the order when Kanda's 16, etc.). Probably.**

 **And about what Tiedoll does between apprentices, I believe it would probably be tantamount to exterminating akuma and driving off Noahs. Lower-level exorcists can take care of small numbers of akuma and fetch Innocence fairly easily, but I think that the Generals would be used for the most difficult tasks, such as infiltrating Noah territory, fighting Noahs, and taking out villages of akuma and more. Considering the sheer amount of akuma in existence, that would number in the thousands or tens of thousands. So, while Tiedoll looks like a harmless old man, he would be a person of mass destruction as his day job.**

 **Anyhow, I'm sorry to say that the writing will be a bit lower in quality from now on, though it should remain correctly spelled. Also, the reason I use 'akuma' instead of 'demon' is because I just have a really hard time thinking of 'demon' and envisioning a big metal shell with guns, so using 'akuma' allows me to keep only one set of connotations in mind. But that's fairly irrelevant, for now...**

 **The final part of the chapter can be read any way you please, but I wrote it as different pieces coming together to make a picture that you wouldn't expect, but that's still there. Like a math equation. You wouldn't expect 1 - -1 to be 2, but that doesn't change what it is. Either way, please read, enjoy, and review, hopefully in that order.**

Another train ride. Great. They were getting really boring.

Daisya took a breath.

"H–"

"No."

Kanda anticipated his suggestion. Where Daisya was staring out the window, Kanda was sitting opposite him, and as close to the door as possible. He hadn't moved a muscle.

He didn't even look annoyed. Just bitterly angry.

"We should probably sleep today," Marie said quietly, shooting a look at Kanda, "Last night was long. We shouldn't waste any more time."

Daisya kept his mouth shut. Marie was right. But he wasn't the one kicking up a fuss over nothing — Kanda shouldn't even have been affected by the fire. He was an exorcist. They dealt with worse stuff all the time.

 _He_ was fine, even when he was the one who got all burnt up. Kanda should have been good in about ten seconds. Even if he'd sprained his ankle, or something, it wouldn't be too hard to grab some medicine and a pair of crutches and get moving. He hadn't even done that. Daisya was watching him, and he didn't move like he was hurt, or anything. He was fine. Should have been fine.

But there was something that had happened — maybe he had to jump some other time, or maybe someone made him jump.

Daisya had a feeling that "Alma" had something to do with it. Anyone important enough for Kanda to actually remember them had to be something. Though, to know who Alma must have been would mean to know Kanda — a thing whose impossibility had drawn Daisya to him in the first place.

So…

Who's Kanda?

Or, and this was important, who was Kanda?

Daisya could remember a lot of things, if he wanted to. But he never wanted to, so why bother?

Kanda was around his age. So, within a year or two of twelve.

Kanda didn't mention any family — then again, neither did he, and neither had most of the others he'd overheard. The eight-year-old was the only one who talked about it, and even then it was just her brother.

So, if he had family, they were irrelevant. And, from his behaviour, pretty weak or preoccupied. He took care of himself pretty well, anyway. Daisya doubted he'd bother rebelling against anything, too, so his parents must not have enforced sophistication in the first place.

That was family taken care of. Nothing too special.

Background. Hometown. He looked Japanese, but he didn't talk with much of an accent. Maybe he was just good at languages, but who knew. And he didn't have any cultural thingies — habits, that was the word — per se. Home probably didn't figure much in his mind.

Home, on the other hand, was something to Daisya. Yeah, it was mostly just a place to get away from, but no one else in the order came from a godforsaken desert town, so it was something to be a bit proud of. It was why he hated boring things so much. If you lived in Bodrum for ten years, you wanted to spend the rest of your life high on — what's it called again? Oh, yeah, adrenaline. Anyway, you wanted the rest of your life to be _really_ exciting, no matter how long or short you end up living 'cos of that. That was probably wrong, but English was weird when it came to idioms.

So. Home. Kanda didn't care much about home. Didn't talk, didn't tell, didn't show.

No home, no family. What the hell else was there?

He didn't play soccer, so there weren't any teammates. No neighbourhood kids. They were boring, but they were something.

Maybe he had a friend, or something. But that would be pretty rare, finding someone who didn't drive Kanda up the wall by just being there.

So, who fit the criteria?

Let's see…there's the little girl, the old man, and Marie.

It was hard not to like the girl, from what he'd seen. Didn't talk too much, didn't do too much. Same with Marie. You couldn't find anything particularly wrong with the two of them. They just sat there, and said nice things. Things that made too much sense.

And there was something about Marie. Daisya had sort of noticed it, but he hadn't quite been able to put a finger on it before.

Well, this train was pretty slow, and time wasn't going anywhere in a hurry.

Time to figure it out.

What did Marie do?

He was helpful. He carried the bags, looked for places to stay, and mediated when he and Kanda were feeling a bit cramped. Sometimes he tried to keep the conversations going, and sometimes he tried to stop 'em.

He tried to fit in, and he tried to compensate for Kanda being himself, sometimes.

Yeah, that was it. He tried to keep the conversations going if Kanda was in a good mood.

He had a soft spot for Kanda — maybe they were a bit like brothers, the way it was supposed to be. Not like his siblings. They whined and whined and whined and the moment he left they pretended they were perfect. Hah. Not a chance, kids, not a chance. He wasn't going to go back, not even if it killed him.

Daisya left off the tangent again. So, Marie. From what he could see, Kanda didn't yell at him too much. Or at all, really.

But we've got no one to compare him too, 'cause the little girl's too cute to have competition. The old man, maybe? Kanda seems to like him. Or respect him, at any rate. He's good at what he does, and he doesn't yell at Kanda. And he trained him.

Daisya's ass had been unceremoniously saved too many times when he was stuck with the old man, so he took a guess. Kanda probably wasn't perfect, either.

So the old man was nice to him and helped him out. Which meant that Marie probably did the same thing.

But they didn't just meet at lunchtime at the Order, or something. They were a bit too friendly for that.

So sometime back before. That was that solved, as far as Daisya could know.

And then what's left is personality. Character, you know. The kids all said his sucked, but he'd like to see them say that after meeting Kanda.

Kanda didn't like to talk.

Kanda didn't like to get talked at.

Kanda was sort of okay with games, or anything small and brainless, as long as he was in control.

Kanda liked being in control.

Kanda was annoyed just like he was bored or preoccupied — all the time, not meaning to, just as a way to live

So maybe there was something that had made him become like that. Or maybe he had been born that way, and become more like that.

Kanda wasn't as extreme as most people thought, though. He did what he could, when he could. He — what's that word, yeah that one — he adapted. He'd lied for him, and he'd been sort of neutral. Not friendly, yeah, but not that mean.

Kanda was a kid who carried his world with him. Nothing else really mattered.

That is who Kanda was back then, and still was now.

But…all that aside, that's just what he was. Who Kanda _is_ is a bit different.

The answer to that wasn't a list of things about the kid.

Daisya carried his world with him, too, so he tried to answer the question.

Hey, who's Kanda?

The trees flew by the train, albeit more slowly than before, and the blurred movement sometimes gave an outline to tableaux — places where the gaps in the leaves blended together to form a shape.

The answer was so obvious it almost appeared out there, spelled out by the universe, or maybe God.

Kanda's a friend.

Well…

Kanda's a kid. He doesn't make much sense. He's annoyed a lot. And angry. Kanda yells at most people, except the old man, the little girl, and the blind guy. But most of the time he's quiet. You can never tell what he's thinking.

Kanda's interesting. And exciting. The opposite of boring.

He'll never tell you anything about himself, so you shouldn't bother making friends with him. He'll just yell at you.

You'll never know anything about him.

He's just Kanda.

But there's so much more to it than that, and I'll never know.

But I want to know. I want to try and find out who Kanda was.

I'm going to find out who Kanda was.

I'm not going to leave him alone until I'm satisfied.

I can't leave him alone until I'm satisfied.

I want to stay with him.

There's only one other person I've met that I want to stay with. There'll be some more, yeah, but for now Kanda's a pretty rare subject.

So, if a friend is someone who makes you happy just by existing, then yeah.

Kanda's a friend.


	16. Chapter 16

**As you eight or so have probably realized, this is the point where I was laying the railroad tracks under my feet as I was writing, so I may take a bit longer to update, because I may decide to write some new material to fill the gap. Anyhow, if anyone wants me to include anything - a character, ship, whatever - drop me a line because I'm starved for ideas. I'm planning on keeping this thing gen (for a given value of gen), but that doesn't mean I can drop a line or two here and there amongst minor characters. Thanks to all who reviewed, by the way. You guys keep this thing posting.**

 **Yadda yadda yadda, blah blah blah, read and review. Read and review. Write me an eighth-grade English report on the possible reasoning behind any odd or ooc-seeming behaviour. Put words that are yours on a page that is available as a link off of this story and is titled 'reviews.' PM if you've got any requests. Just arrange words in a meaningful manner, as I'm attempting to do on a slightly larger scale.**

 **Edit: Thanks to karina001 and lostinmusation for reviewing, but I'm feeling a bit less benevolent this week, so a hundred-odd. And please read, review. Read, review. You're getting really sleepy. Read, review. I promise, update frequency and quality will be roughly proportional to criticism given.**

The sun was slipping down the sky, and Tiedoll would have liked to sketch it. The colours — orange and pink, fading to grey — were nothing special, but what made it breathtaking was the arrangement of the sun beside the railroad tracks, framed by hills as the train left the mountains. The spread of light between the clouds on the horizon resembled an eye, looking over the rising plains.

Alas, he couldn't bring himself to wake Kanda, who had, oddly enough, fallen asleep.

He had looked a bit tired, recently.

But odder still was Daisya's apparent thoughtfulness — despite the demands of his body, he still staring out the window, as if watching something.

Well, that was quite the improvement. He seemed to be on the path to growing up — or at least learning to deal with his own situation.

Tiedoll looked around again, and had to suppress a laugh. The roles in the cabin had switched almost perfectly.

Perhaps Daisya and Kanda weren't so different — though that was, of course, the most wishful of thinking.

…

The scream of metal made Daisya wince as the train pulled away, bound for the next stop. This platform was just a raised set of wood planks, despite the size of the town it served. Maybe funds were running low. Maybe this was a shanty town. It was too late to think about.

Daisya gingerly shouldered his backpack, relaxing his muscles in order not to wince. The bandages helped, but the warmth of the morphine was wearing off.

"Hey, old man, what are we doing now?"

Tiedoll glanced back. It had been over twelve hours since they were at the hospital, and the unusual softness in Daisya's voice suggested that he might be feeling his injuries.

"We're just going to see if we can get anywhere tonight, or if we have to stay here."

"Same as always."

Daisya sounded bored again.

"Well, we should be able to get somewhere soon. First, we have to have something to eat. You need to keep your strength up. And you should probably take some more medication."

"Yeah, yeah," groaned Daisya, more for show than out of any resentment, "I know."

The old man was pretty good at guessing.

…

The inns all seemed to blend together, after a while. Twenty metres square, at least, with a small bar against one wall that led back to the kitchen. A staircase on the side, narrow and wobbly, and rooms up above. Wood-panelled walls, wooden or dirt floors, wood tables and chairs. No wonder the fire in Budapest had spread so fast. And the tables and chairs were always too high, but the seats were too low. Didn't do too well for you if you were short. Your legs kept losing circulation.

Around the table, Marie and Daisya dug in, the latter with a more creative technique so as not to put any pressure on his bandaged fingers.

At this point he had the entirety of his meal into bits and was eating it with a spoon. Marie had shot him a questioning glance, but no more than that. It wasn't worth arguing. They were all as tired as each other.

Not so with Kanda. He had pushed himself back from the table, despite his plate being nearly full. It had taken him a few tries, what with him being short.

"That's disgusting."

Across from him, Daisya shrugged, then winced.

"It's fun."

"It's unnecessary."

Kanda's arms were folded, but an observer could see that the fingers visible had tightened around his arm.

" _Your_ fingers don't hurt whenever you hold something."

Daisya shoved another spoonful in his mouth, earning a sigh of disgust.

"Anyway," he muttered around the current mouthful, "You gonna eat that?"

He pointed a mummified finger at Kanda's meal. The meat and potatoes were both as grey as the wood lining the walls, but they were edible.

"Go ahead."

In an uncharacteristic act of neutrality, Kanda pushed the plate forward.

"Awesome!"

Daisya's hand sneaked out, pulling the plate back with the speed of a snake.

"Are you even hungry enough to eat that?" Kanda asked doubtfully.

Daisya looked up incredulously, and rolled his eyes before putting his head back down.

"No, of course not. I just need a lot of material if I'm gonna heal up."

The wooden cutlery worked lightly but steadily, clacking against the plate and occasionally the table when Daisya got a bit careless.

But instead of retaliating at the dismissive tone, Kanda just looked away. Had Marie sight, he would have noticed the circles around his eyes growing darker than their normal shade, even with how tired they all were. Even with his blindness, he could hear the inaudible groan, and feel Kanda looked away, as if sickened. Some things you could feel, regardless of what you could see.

His train of thought was interrupted by Tiedoll's arrival at the table.

"We'll have to stay here for the night," the General said quietly, pulling up a chair, "There's no train until morning. We can stay here, though. I took a couple of the free rooms just down the corridor."

As he began to eat, Kanda stood up, the legs of his chair grating across the floor.

"We need to be prepared for tomorrow. I'm going to sleep."

He glared at the occupants of the table defensively, but Tiedoll's look of mild surprise lasted only a moment.

"Yes, that is a good idea," he commented, putting a key on the table, "We should all rest up tonight."

Kanda's hand slid over, snapping up the keys. Not even bothering to shoot a glare at Daisya in his slovenliness, he left.

Daisya watched him go down the hallway before swallowing.

"What's up with him?" he asked, half to himself.

He didn't quite notice the tired glance Tiedoll gave to Marie. They were both a bit forgetful.

…

The three of them stood outside the door as if in council, hesitating to move.

"If he's asleep, we probably shouldn't wake him up," whispered Marie.

"But we won't know that until we open the door," Tiedoll added with a trace of irony, "A situation not unlike Schrodinger's Cat."

"Well, if he was that tired," reasoned Daisya, "It's fine if we wake him up, 'cause he'll just fall back asleep. He's a pretty deep sleeper, isn't he?"

Marie frowned.

"No, not as far as I can remember. Not unless he's dreaming, which doesn't happen much."

"Oh."

Daisya shrugged, immediately regretting the movement. Marie looked thoughtful, and Tiedoll put his hands together.

"Perhaps we should just share the remaining room. I'm sure there's enough room for the three of us."

Daisya looked quickly at his apparent roommates, shrugged again, and winced again. Tiedoll wondered if he would ever learn.

"I'm tired. I'll sleep on the floor."

…

The sun shone through the windows, landing squarely on Daisya's pile of blankets. In the middle of the grey, wood-planked floor, it was as if a mountain of discarded laundry had made a bid for freedom, before being petrified by the morning light. The face revealed was certainly grotesque enough.

"Aargh."

He pulled a quilt over his head, trying to block out the sun. And the morphine was wearing off again. Every movement burned.

Daisya screwed up his face in distaste. There was nothing for it but getting up — the sun wasn't going anywhere.

"Old man."

He staggered to his feet, picking off a sheet that had somehow wound around three of his limbs. His teeth were gritted as his clothes grated on his skin. After a moment, he was able to disentangle his wrist, but the result tightened the rest of the cloth around his ankles, resulting in a fall from grace.

After a resounding thud and a gasp, he picked himself back up. Kanda _had_ to have chosen the most inconvenient time to dream, didn't he.

"What is it, Daisya?"

The voice cut through the haze, and Daisya's vision refocused.

The old man was sitting on the bed, fully dressed and sketching, again. How he managed to get up that early Daisya could only guess at, but it was getting boring.

"Got any more drugs?" he asked roughly. "The old ones wore off."

He turned back, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do with the defeated sheet.

Fold it?

A moment later, while he was kicking the pile of linen into a neater heap, a hand was outstretched with a couple of tablets. He grabbed them, without thanks or acknowledgement. A flaw of his, to add to many.

Dragging himself over to the washbasin, he filled a glass of water and swallowed. His throat was still sore, but it was getting better. Now, that was done. What else?

He decided he'd better wash his face, but immediately regretted it when he ran the facecloth over his skin.

He'd had some pretty bad sunburns before, but between the blisters and peeling skin, this one outdid them all by far.

Eeugh. Now his skin was coming off. Now that was just _nasty_.

He started to rewrap his bandages as Marie folded sheets behind him. Around the jawbone, covering as much of the cheeks as possible, over the head, and down the neck. His exorcist's cloak had a hood, thankfully, but it still didn't cover all of it. And his fingers still didn't work as well as they should.

Damn, this was turning out to be a lot more of a problem than he'd thought.

Which made it more exciting.

He wound the bandages down, around his chest and then his legs. A couple of pricked fingers and swears later, the old man decided he'd best pin down some of the ends himself.

Yeah, it was painful, but pain was the one sign that you were alive.

...

Kanda, unexpectedly, wasn't awake before them, and Daisya was the sacrificial victim. The other room was a ways down the hallway, and he grumbled as he dragged himself along. He didn't see why the old man couldn't send Marie. Kanda might actually listen to _him_. And then they'd all have breakfast quicker. He was starving. _Starving_. Maybe if he was lucky Kanda'd give him some of his share, but you couldn't count on kindness from that kid more than once.

Funny. After a while these hallways all tended to blend into one. There was a lot of wood. Sometimes there was stone, and plaster. This one was half-timber, with a tiny bit of white at the end of the hallway, and pitch-dark wood around the window there. The rest of it - walls, floors, doors - was the same old grey-brown they'd seen for the last two weeks. At least there was some morning sun streaming on to the floor.

Ah, here we are.

He gritted his teeth, turned to face the door, and kicked it.

"Kanda," he called, "'s time for breakfast."

He waited a few seconds, staring at the glue between the planks making up the door and waiting for the obligatory groan.

No answer. Kanda didn't seem to be feeling too co-operative today. Actually, scratch that - that was normal. Oh, well, nothing for it.

He kicked the door again, then hissed in pain, hopping back on his remaining foot. It'd seemed like a good idea at the time.

"Hey, Kanda, wake up!"

Again, he stared at the wood, trying to see if there were any knotholes that let in light. He was damned if he wasn't going to get some breakfast soon.

After a few seconds and another shout, he heard some equivalent hissing from the room one over for him to be quiet. He ignored it. They could sleep later, if they wanted.

Daisya kicked the door again, muttering a string of swears through clenched teeth, then looked a bit more closely to see if there were any openings in the door, or if the hinges were just a bit offset. As bad luck would have it, the keyhole was tiny and the knots were all solid wood. Couldn't a tree just _try_ and make some useful ones?

Now he had to do the boring thing, and peek underneath the door. It made you look a bit of an idiot, but the door was locked and breakfast was getting more distant by the minute.

Beneath the door, the space was too thin to make out any detail beyond the presence of light. However, the line of cloth running about forty centimetres across was enough to show that yes, Kanda was awake, and no, he wasn't coming out for breakfast.

What was _with_ that kid. Daisya'd thought he'd have him figure out by now, but as he crossed his legs he decided that he'd have to have another go.

Maybe Alma had something to do with it, whoever she was.

Daisya spoke through the door again, this time sitting at its base. The light was starting to reach further down the hallway, making the dust dance in the air.

"Kanda, if you don't come out now, I don't think you're going to get breakfast."

No answer, again, but he was sure that Kanda had heard him. He fancied he could hear the breathing through the door.

"Not hungry again?"

Silence.

"Oh, just do one knock for yes and two knocks for no, will ya?"

Two knocks.

Daisya grinned. Typical. The sun was on him now, warm and golden and streaming across the wooden planks. The old man had said the windows made it that way, but he couldn't understand why. Anyway, it felt good.

"Well, I'm not gonna wait for you. Want me to bring you a plate of something?"

No answer again, but one belligerent response was enough to keep Daisya happy.

"Bo-ring."

He hopped to his feet, wincing where the linen scraped his skin, and set off back to the table. The dragon wasn't going to come out today, not even for a designated sacrifice.

Maybe tomorrow.


	17. Chapter 17

**After posting the last chapter I realized I had a hundred-some words to spare that would be better in that one than in this one, so reread it to see if you missed something. Also forgive the change in writing style, but I was probably reading a book with a different writing style when I was writing this. Otherwise, read and review. Thanks to all who reviewed last chapter (I think it was karina001, lostinmusation, and waterlit), and please read and review. Preferably criticism, too.**

Daisya had grabbed a few pieces of toast and some dried sausage, and was stuffing them into a pocket of his backpack.

"You certainly have quite the appetite today," commented Tiedoll, amused.

"Yeah," said Daisya, a hint of defense in his voice, "Well we have to fight soon. Kanda's stupid to waste energy."

He tied the pocket shut, and slung the bag over his back. The morefing or morphing or whatever was working again, so it didn't hurt. Much.

Once Marie had fetched Kanda, who apparently was feeling sick (Daisya didn't buy it), they made their way to where Tiedoll had said there was a coach for hire. People didn't travel much here, but this town and their destination were pretty big for the area.

At least it was a break from trains, though they did stay pretty exciting for a while.

...

The coachman in question, when they arrived, was a timid-looking youth in a shabby hat. He nearly blended in with the road. They really seemed to like brown out here, for some reason that escaped Daisya. It was boring.

"I have it ready, General," the guy said in passable German, "But are you still sure you want to go? My grandmother says you really should stay here for the circus, at least."

Tiedoll waved a hand reassuringly.

"We have relatives to visit, so I don't really have a choice. My mother-in-law, you know. And the circus is going where we're headed, isn't it?"

He chuckled to put the kid at ease, but he still looked worried.

"People don't really go there anymore. At least, they don't come back."

He was fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.

"My granny says she really thinks you should stay here."

Tiedoll decided to forestall the next protest by stepping towards the coach — or rather, cart.

"Then I'll give your granny my regards when we get back."

He patted the youth on the back jovially, then climbed into the cart. The three in tow followed, with Kanda throwing a customary glare at the teenager as he passed.

Tiedoll felt a bit sorry for him — Kanda had been in a worse mood than usual, with his sickness. He suspected it was just a reaction to the fire. Kanda, for all his complaining, had quite the saviour complex. In addition, of course, to everything else.

Tiedoll didn't know the whole story, but what he knew was enough to know that a year and a few months was only barely enough for the memories to scab over, ready to bleed at a moment's notice.

And so a farm cart (whose days were certainly numbered, the way the wheels squeaked) full of exorcists — one old, one blind, one angry, and one terminally giggle-prone — rattled down the rutted road.

Daisya ran the sentence through his mind again. Yeah, that was good. Alliteration, the old man had said it was.

…

Daisya had gotten out the toast, offered some to Kanda, and began to dig in rather messily when the gift was refused.

"Now," said the General quietly, "We may have a little more difficult of a situation on our hands than with Innocence."

"Like what?" asked Kanda, leaning as far away from Daisya as possible.

"Well, as you know, finders can normally hold their own for a while against a few akuma. So it's a little mysterious that they got wiped out this quickly. I had my suspicions, but Marie and I paid a visit to an acquaintance of mine while we were in Budapest. Just to be sure, of course."

An unspoken, almost tangible sentiment rippled between Kanda and Daisya.

 _So that's where you were._

"Anyway, we went over a few possibilities. We're probably dealing with a town of akuma."

Kanda sat up straighter.

"How is that possible?" he asked suspiciously, "Akuma just seek out the closest Innocence. You can't create that many akuma in one area in that amount of time."

The General and Marie glanced at each other, almost to quickly for him to notice.

"There have been…some instances. In any case, it's more likely than some of the other possibilities. And it could happen if someone was brokering the souls."

"Mmf–"

Daisya had to swallow before trying to talk again.

"Brokering souls? Aren't they already broken?"

The General laughed. Daisya was talented with languages, but he still made the occasional mistake. Or perhaps it was because he was nigh-on drugged into a stupor — it wasn't quite morphine, as he had said, but something he'd had on him for emergencies. The scientists had warned him about using it on the less sharp.

"No, no. 'Brokering' is sort of a way of saying 'selling'. The Earl sometimes uses human agents to create more akuma. They convince people to call back souls in exchange for money."

"That's terrible. It's smart, though. Sure you don't want any?"

Kanda leaned away again.

"I already told you, I'm not hungry."

"You've eaten, like, half a potato and some cabbage since lunch yesterday."

"I'm sick."

"My mother always said you should eat more when you're sick to help heal."

"Yeah, right."

"Well, it makes sense."

"Shut up."

"Eat the damn toast."

" _Shut up_."

The two seemed to have take a few seconds to continue their semi-permanent argument about everything.

"Daisya–"

The pitch in the General's voice wasn't strict, but it did hint that there were matters of slightly more import at hand than the state of Kanda's appetite and Daisya's tact, regardless of chemical stimulants or otherwise.

"Regardless of how it happened, we are, in all likelihood, going to a town full of akuma. The Order has not considered it, but there may not even be any Innocence if the Earl has any motive for creating the situation. Which means that we may have no way out after we enter the town. In that case, we have to kill enough akuma to escape."

The General finished the sentence, then looked to Marie, as if prompting further explanation.

"We thought–"

"You thought–"

"Sorry, I thought that we could try to interrogate the akuma first. If there isn't a broker and there isn't any Innocence, that means that there was some reason the Earl ordered this. It could be something different…"

He trailed off awkwardly, and the General stepped in.

"See, that wasn't so hard! I had just thought about going all-out at first, but Marie thought that, seeing as you two need some experience, we might as well collect some information."

Marie, for all his six-some feet and broad shoulders, managed to look sheepish.

The General smiled, and pushed his glasses up his nose.

"So, for your part, just act like the adorable children you are. And please don't wear your exorcist cloaks unless I ask you to."

"We're not adorable," muttered Kanda darkly.

 **I imagine Tiedoll would be trying to get stereotypically-nervous-teenager Marie to start speaking more assertively. Also Kanda's odd behaviour is a combination of low-level ptsd triggered by events that mirrored some things he'd rather just forget.**


	18. Chapter 18

**It's late at night and tomorrow I've got two assignments due, a seminar, and a test, and I've just gotten back from some travelling without access to a computer, so I have to make this quick. Thanks so very much to the three commenters for the last chapter - the comments were really good this time around. I'm afraid chapter lengths are a bit inconsistent due to my having typed this all up as one written work a few months back, but I'll try to post either longer chapters or more frequently now that I've been clearly asked to do so! Anyhow, I don't have the time to respond directly to comments now, but I'll try to update this later in the week to do so. Enjoy.**

"Oh, how cute!"

This innkeeper was a girl, regrettably so.

"Ah, aren't they? My sister was rather fond of them, before she passed on."

Kanda was of the opinion that Tiedoll was spinning as cliché a story as he could with the opportunity given to him. The innkeeper seemed to be buying it, at any rate.

At least she hadn't tried to touch him yet.

"What a pity about the parents. You said you're looking for their relatives?"

Tiedoll nodded.

"Yes, we've been looking for a while, but this village seems to be a candidate. I hear it's a rather special place. You do present evidence of its wonders."

The innkeeper, who was of about the same dimensions as Marie, blushed. Kanda used every ounce of willpower available to keep his face straight.

"Oh, you flatter me. We're really nothing special, we just sometimes get travellers. Not such as yourselves, but the ones that never stop travelling, you know," she said, waving a hand as if searching for a word, "Uh…"

"…nomads?"

"Yes, yes, that's the word. Like the circus! It's coming in a week, very exciting."

Tiedoll bowed slightly.

"Yes, we are quite looking forward to it, should we stay that long. I'm afraid we have to unload at the moment, but the children can keep you company in the meantime."

With another small bow — a habit of his, when he was trying to be especially polite — he left Kanda and Daisya to their mutual demise.

…

"Oh, and how did you get those tattoos?"

Half of Daisya was relishing in the attention, and the remaining half was cringing in his seat.

"Um…well, of course, I got them after the accident. As a memento of," he said, desperately laying tracks beneath a moving train, "Uh, my parents, and of home. Yeah. It's nice to have them around."

He smiled, and tried to ignore Kanda's sideways glance of disbelief and the kick in the shins he so generously offered.

"I guess I know how it feels," the innkeeper replied wistfully, "I lost…someone, I think. I can't quite remember it, because I was so young, but I still know it happened."

She apparently doubled as the bartender, and was busily cleaning glasses as the boys sat on the barstools, legs dangling beneath them.

"And how about you, do you have anything to help you remember?" she asked, addressing the question in a slightly more patronizing tone to Kanda.

Daisya noted that her sense of self-preservation was apparently as weak as her self-control in the area of chatting. If Marie wanted information, what they'd collected would take a week to sort through. At least she hadn't asked about the burns, even though the old man had explained them away with the accident. He had a feeling Kanda wouldn't react so kindly to them being brought up.

Speaking of which, he wasn't reacting so kindly to the question now. Daisya smiled, trying to communicate that maybe this was not the time to snap.

Kanda seemed to have gotten some of the message at least.

"I just remember sometimes. That's all," he muttered, managing to keep any emotion out of his voice.

"All right, but you must remember once in a while. It's important to remember everything that happens, if it's good or bad," said the innkeeper cheerfully.

Her German was tainted slightly with an accent, but as time went on Daisya was pretty sure it wasn't Magyar. The old man and Marie were probably the experts, but he had his own set of skills.

Up to and including keeping an entirely straight face as he listened to Kanda's replies.

…

The dust that Daisya kicked up settled in the still air, turning golden as the sun dropped closer to the horizon.

He drove the ball around, controlling it when he suddenly turned at a right angle or more, and occasionally driving it at the wall of the inn. He'd managed to get used to the pain of moving, and the old man still gave him enough painkillers to knock someone out. Sometimes he was pretty sensible, you know?

He ran around again, but it was pretty boring after a while if no one wanted to play. The hard-packed dirt of the courtyard jarred his ankles more than grass, but less than stone.

He ran back, circled around, and aimed the ball at a set of shutters.

It bounced off with a clatter. This was to be expected, as was the lack of a response.

He went around again, and again, listening to the clatters and their echoes and watching the dust motes. Target practice, he reasoned, was the most important thing when you were fighting.

Eventually, Kanda opened the shutters, and yelled down at him.

"Would you _shut up_?"

Daisya shaded his eyes from the glare in the west, and called back.

"Wanna play with me?"

"No."

The shutters snapped closed, and Daisya had no choice but to hit them again.

"I told you, _no_."

Kanda glared down at him again.

"Hey, a boy can dream!" Daisya said back, shrugging, "I guess you'll just have to put up with my lack of practice once we start fi–"

He cut himself off, remembering that they were supposed to be quiet about the whole exorcist thing.

Thanks to Kanda's ever-so-persistent refusal, he had but one option remaining.

"Please?"

He was expecting another scoff, sigh, or whatever, but he didn't get a sound. Kanda just looked at him.

There was something in his eyes he'd seen before. The same ghost as when he was standing on the windowsill as the flames worked their way towards the kerosene.

The dust settled, and Daisya didn't bother to wince as the light streamed past his fingers. Something else held his attention. Someone else. Someone in Kanda's eyes.

He looked at Daisya like he'd caused the very destruction of the world. This was Kanda, so that softened it a bit, but still.

What did he ever have against a bit of politeness?

Daiysa returned to kicking the ball in zigzags as the shutters slammed with what had to be enough force to shake the building.

…

The chords were faint, but the harmony when they shifted was calming when quieter, Marie had discovered.

He slipped from C sharp minor into A major, into B major and back to C sharp, adding an F sharp to suspend it.

C sharp minor was the key of emotion, of burning grief mixed with absolute joy. And when played quietly, it exuded a warm type of melancholy. Its twin, D flat major, was no less beautiful, but its tone was milder and more bittersweet.

He shifted again, and again, slowly modulating through E major to F sharp minor — a similar key, but with a more mysterious timbre.

To D, to E, to C sharp minor, then to A.

He couldn't decide whether to use a major or a minor, at the moment.

He was not sad, nor angry, though there was no sense of self-centred joy in it. So, if it were in a minor key, the tempo would not veer above an allegretto, or perhaps a moderato.

Kanda and Daisya, despite the odds, had neither killed each other nor died — yet. And the General seemed to be in a good mood. But there was still the aura of tension around Kanda, and the fact remained that they were dallying where people had disappeared.

The music would not be stately, if it were slow. Not solemn — it would require a certain melancholic tension no matter what the tempo.

He moved one note, anticipating the chord, and then slid into G sharp minor.

But were it not for the logistics of the post of 'exorcist', he would be entirely happy. Kanda was having fun, for lack of a better word, and the General had his students back.

And he could play the role of mentor.

The key spliced together B major and G sharp minor, before ending in E major.

The night was warm, and quiet without the General and Daisya. To respect it, Kanda waited until the final glimmers of sound had died away.

"We're not really here to collect information, are we?"

Marie let the strings retract. His Innocence suited him — innocuous, but strong.

"In a way," he replied, honesty warring with logic.

"There's no point to just waiting to die. It doesn't matter if they know we're exorcists — they'll try to kill us anyway."

"Yes. We are trying to seem innocent. If they don't know who we are, they won't be prepared."

There was a sliding noise as Kanda presumably shifted position.

"They probably already suspect we're exorcists. They should have known we'd come eventually."

Marie nodded.

"Yes. The General just says that, at worst, the effect will be the same as if we announced ourselves."

Kanda made a derisive noise.

"Except we'll just be less prepared. Daisya hasn't even guessed what we're doing."

Kanda was on edge — Marie could hear the tension in his voice.

But there were no further counter-arguments.

It, like most of the General's moves, was a risk. Nonetheless, he was an experienced gambler — he had survived this long, after all.

…

"I've got to say, I'm going to avoid doing laundry as much as I can for as long as I live. If boredom was a thing, it would be laundry," called Daisya from the window.

He finished squeezing the last of the water out of the bandage, then wandered back to the scrap of a shaving-mirror, standing right next to Kanda to force him out of the way.

"Well, you're either going to have to get used to it, or just shut up about it."

Kanda stepped a few inches away, but no more than that, keeping a bit of the mirror for himself. He slowly picked a comb through the ends of his hair, which had become so knotted as to become solid.

"Yeah, yeah. Or I could just not wash anything while I'm on a mission."

Kanda scoffed.

"You already don't clean them much, and you stink."

"If you cared that much about it you'd have brought it up earlier," retorted Daisya, contorting himself in an effort to re-wrap a bandage around his shoulders.

"I had to get through everything else first."

Daisya chuckled, now winding the strip of cloth around his neck.

"What's so funny?" asked Kanda suspiciously

"Ah, nothing. That was a nice line, by the way."

Kanda said nothing, dragging the comb through a patch of hair.

Silence continued for a few more moments as Daisya finished covering up the burns on his head, securing the bandage with a safety pin.

"Well," he said cheerfully, "Almost a day in, and no one's tried to kill us yet."

The comment was not without sardonicism, and Kanda briefly considered the possibility of Daisya being observant before dismissing it. The kid tidying up around the mirror was not a candidate for the title of 'perceptive', with his stupid grins and penchant for chattering.

He started picking at another patch of hair, adding to the clump that was collecting beside the mirror. He liked long hair, but nothing was more tedious that combing it after a few days of neglect.

A few minutes later, his eyes landed upon a distinct space beside the mirror, and he nearly broke the comb in a moment of mild rage.

…

"Give it back."

Daisya was ninety-six percent sure that there was no way to get out of Kanda's straddle without dislocating at least on joint.

"I don't– aaaargh, don't do that, I've got burns, you know!"

Kanda lessened up the pressure.

"Give me back my hair tie. I know you took it."

"Okay, okay. Get off me first, at least!"

"No. You'll just run away."

"Promise!"

There was a moment of cold consideration, and Kanda relented.

"There will be no mercy if you escape."

Odd words to be spoken in that high a voice, but they served their purpose.

Daisya got up gingerly, holding out the alleged piece of string.

"Either this is really important, or you're more violent than that Cross dude the old man talks about."

Kanda snatched back the article, and tied his hair back in a ponytail.

"I can't fight without a hair tie," he muttered defensively

"I think I could argue."

…

There was the thick silence of sleep — breathing patterns hung in the air, and blankets rustled on occasion, but the warm felt of drowsiness covered up most other sounds.

Despite that, Tiedoll kept both an eye and an ear on things.

It was pushing it, to be sure, but he still had enough medication to last for a few more days, and he'd gotten a good amount of sleep during the day. It was better to be safe.

Still, the sheets over him were enticingly comfortable, to his regret. If their hostess decided to pay them a visit, it would require some willpower to get up and greet her.

Nonetheless, his hands felt the outline of the Maker of Eden under his pillow, and caffeine-laced blood coursed through his brain, forestalling any chance of slipping off.

Now, to wait.

 **oh yes and and thank you very much to waterlit for the comparison** ❀(*´◡`*)❀ **once i stop blushing, it'll take me a bit to deflate my head.**

 **and to lostinmusation, at first I thought his saviourism was a major part of the story (I watched the anime first), so I decided to take advantage of my error and shift it here.**

 **Finally, in case anyone's confused, Daisya is not the only person to have pushed Kanda off something high to save him, nor is he the only person that suffered as a result.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Hello again, and thanks to karina001 and waterlit for the reviews. If you guys also post often on here, you know how much impact they have on my willingness to write. The story should be a bit more action-y from here on in, which is partially good (because who doesn't love a good asskicking) and partially bad (because where dialogue is my love, action is my bane. I can never get it like it is in my head). Regardless, I hope you enjoy it somewhat.**

 **Sorry if I get a bit verbose, but I rewrote a decent bit of this at night, meaning that my brain-to-fingers filter wasn't running at full capacity. Also may I say that my description is as bad as my action, so any critique is appreciated.**

Izabella had been a local girl, unlike some of the others here. But, in an unfortunate accident involving a cat, she had briefly been no more.

She'd helped run this tavern since she was five years old and blond-haired, cutting biscuits from dough to pass to her mother. The half-timber walls were her home, with the ceiling sagging over the bar counter and the tar-black joists that looked precariously balanced. She instinctively avoided the dip in the fifth stair, worn in the wood from years of wear. Even now, she did.

She set her foot on the sixth stair without missing a beat. It was a pity, because she'd enjoyed these ones. It had been a while since she could cook as she loved to do, and these unfamiliar arms had sorely needed the training. She remembered in the build-up to these weeks the joy of finally chopping an onion without slicing her fingers, and the glorious feeling of knowing the length of her legs and the balance of her head. Some of the older ones said they could remember that too, when they finally adapted to their current bodies.

The cat had been the next in a generation of the ones they kept around to clear out the mice and provide a bit of heat when the frost bit hard. This one had been a mackerel tabby, with orderly black stripes through brown fur and a suit-like patch of white down his throat, giving the air of some stuffy magistrate passing through. He was still very soft, though he was a bit more hostile with this body. He'd loved her old body so much that he'd twined around her ankles each morning.

The accident really had been unfortunate. She'd loved the hair she used to have, frizzy and dark as the wooden crossbeams. Her sister had straighter hair, strawberry blonde was what her mother called it. She might once have been jealous of that epithet, but the feeling seemed vague and unreal in this new reality. Her mother hadn't been around for a while, and she couldn't figure out if she had turned into dust or taken another skin. She hadn't seen either her mother's body or her father's, back when he died. They were distant memories now.

But not her sister.

Her sister had been kind enough to call her back, enabling her to carry out the Earl's wishes in the body of her unfortunate sibling. It felt a bit cruel, but ultimately using her sister was a kindness. She lived on in the sights of the travellers who passed by, and remained immortal as the last thing they saw. Izabella herself was just a messenger. An emissary of the true power in this world — not God but something similar. An entity in thirteen parts, the Lady called it, and chief among them was the Earl. They — she — he — all occupied her thoughts, entwined in the lesser memories of her home, her family.

Still, they did not rob her of her memories, merely superseding them. Her sister remained in the background of each new snippet of information, and she still remembered how soft, how cute the cat had been. She would have been happy to die at the hands of something exemplifying the virtues of innocence, of wide eyes. That was one thing that remained with her. Yes, it was unimportant, but she couldn't ignore all the childish beauty in the word. The cat, his compatriots, the immature bodies of some of her allies, the children she had shown upstairs. Particularly the way they played off each other, like the two cats that sparred in the courtyard beside the inn only to gang up on any passing dog. The symmetry merely added to the appeal of the idea; one hot, one cold, one light, one dark. One of the other akuma had explained the principles of yin and yang, of the eternal balance. She found that apropos.

In the stretch of light, there was a pool of darkness, and a bright star amidst the black.

The eighth and final step.

It pained her to have to exterminate them so callously, but the Earl and his kinsmen had the final word. Combustion was all that awaited disobedience. She had been ordered, even after her appeal, to continue. This supervising Lady wasn't so kind as some of the others - the Lord called the Fiddler was a piece of work — but she was kinder than some, so Izabella had decided to carry out the task quickly. After all, the Lady's springing step and her wide eyes complemented one another almost as well as did the children.

A low, heavy doorway, with the door hanging loose on its hinges. No new shipments of supplies had arrived since the town had been secured, so Izabella had been forced to do the best she could with string.

She walked soundlessly towards the older one. She had said to take that one out first, they'd said. He might not look it, but he's dangerous.

Two narrow beds at the back, against the wall on either side of the window. Two in front, on either side of the door. Bare wooden flooring, and pale cream walls spliced through with thick beams of black. Her home was beautiful.

Her human shape distorted as she leaned over the old man.

It would be difficult to explain what happened next, so to put it simply:

There was a brief moment as she panicked at the sight of movement.

There was a less brief flare of light. It glinted off the window and cast shadows that claw their way up the walls.

There was a distinct lack of Izabella — if the thing could have been called Izabella in the first place.

Tiedoll dusted his hands for the effect of it, and stood up.

Marie was a good child, but he was still a bit too trusting. The Order would not have sent the four of them there if resistance hadn't been an absolute certainty. The first rule the Generals learned was never to trust anyone. The second was to prepare for every possibility, up to and including death.

He wasn't as good at the first as Klaud, nor as good as Marian at adhering to the second. Still, he got by.

First, he woke Marie up, then Kanda, then Daisya. The latter necessitated a hand over the mouth, due to his habit of jabbering as soon as he entered consciousness.

"Mmf–"

Tiedoll put a finger to his lips, and removed his hand. The only light in the room filtered in the window from the moon, casting a shadow only Kanda's eyes could see. It was almost like a vigil, with the three of them hunched around Daisya's bed.

"I'm sorry, Daisya, but making noise is not a good idea at the moment," he whispered.

Daisya straightened up, glancing over the end of the bed where Marie had already laid out a coat and a pair of boots.

"It's way too early to leave," he complained in a whisper, "Did someone try to kill us, or something?"

As Kanda turned to grab a bag, Daisya gingerly slipped on to the floor. He wasn't wincing any more, but to be fair his doses of painkiller had been steadily increasing over the past two days. They needed all of them at full capacity.

"Precisely," replied Tiedoll.

"Hah!"

Daisya's stage whisper shouldn't have surprised the General. It was all he could do not to sigh.

"Do we finally get to fight something?"

"I'm afraid we might have no choice."

A few moments later, his three apprentices had donned their uniforms and come to a form of attention in front of him. After a few knocked shins, Daisya's eyes seemed to have adjusted to the darkness.

"We're going to see if there are any other akuma out there. Marie, please use your strings to test for them if there are none Kanda can see."

Marie nodded.

"If necessary, I'll split off from you three. In that case, stick together and don't worry about me. The town should be full of akuma. If worst comes to worst, run away. Remember: it's always better to live."

With the impromptu briefing, Tiedoll turned on his heel. He was sure none of his apprentices had noticed the faint grin that crossed his face. The Exorcist Generals were wise, yes, but the position was a military one.

And a little excitement wasn't so bad.

The four headed carefully for the front door, and Tiedoll opened it.

Almost casually, he thrust a hand full of Innocence in the face of the waiting akuma before walking out.

The stars were bright out here, tossed casually across the heavens. In the dark, the town was turned to stone in shades of steel and pearl grey. The sight would have been quite beautiful, if not for the rows upon rows of akuma that faced them.

Thankfully, the Maker of Eden provided a temporary shield from the hail of bullets. General Tiedoll was prepared.

"I think," he said thoughtfully, "We may have to split up. I'll go east. Marie?"

The other exorcist nodded. They knew the plan.

"Good luck in one…two…three…"

Tiedoll peeled off, running east down the dirt road towards the centre of town. He prayed quickly that, for a moment, Daisya would act sensibly. And Kanda, for that matter. The two of them were more alike than they were inclined to admit.

A sixth sense led him to throw up a shield just as dust sprayed up behind him

...

To the west, the grass grew longer and already Marie's strings played a symphony that distorted the spray of bullets. Diabolus in musica; the tritone that had once been condemned as unholy. Ironic, he thought, that it was now an instrument of God.

Kanda and Daisya had bitten into the swarm, the former slicing into the akuma Marie had bound, the latter aiming at the more distant ranks. A good position. Kanda covered him, and he could take out masses of akuma before they got to Kanda.

The ringing of a bell rolled out on top of the screaming strings, like the mourning of the insane.


	20. Chapter 20

**Really sorry about not updating sooner, but work is piling up around my ears and I'm getting none of it done. As for the chapter, clunky action and way too many paragraph breaks will follow, but hopefully it's not too bad. The soundtrack I had in mind for most of it was from Moonspell's Night Eternal album, mostly the title track and Moon in Mercury. Some nice fine blackened gothic symphonic metal with death/doom influences. Metal bands do love their subgenres.**

 **A few notes: I'm using akuma as a loan word, so its singular and plural forms are the same, and I'm capitalizing the Innocence names because while it looks weird and pretentious it just differentiates them.**

 **Anyhow, thanks very much to the reviewers, without which this would have been abandoned months ago. Hope you enjoy!**

"Geez," panted Daisya, "How many of these guys are there?"

He skidded around a tree, and kicked the Charity Bell up to make it ricochet off the tree ahead and fly backwards into the akuma chasing him. It wouldn't be enough to finish it off — he wasn't too good at that — but it would give him some time to catch his breath.

Kanda swept in beside him, only just breathing heavily. Some people got all the luck.

"Akuma don't need to eat or sleep," he snapped, "If the Earl wanted, he could fill the houses with akuma."

Around the western outskirts of the town, there was a thin copse of trees littered in a wide circle around a farmstead. It wasn't much. A few young oaks, a few elm, and some bushes stretching between them with spindly branches. It was further back that it thickened into a real forest, but for now they stayed around the fence. Mostly Marie had thought it better to have some cover that none. Daisya didn't care to admit that, as usual, he had a point.

Speaking of which, the shifting chords of the Organum were coming from somewhere behind them. It was difficult to stay together — if you waited for too long in one spot, you were dead in the water. Or in the forest. Or on the plains.

Now the trees were getting thicker as they started to retreat, with Marie ahead of them. Daisya stayed next to Kanda, playing long range under Kanda's cover. The system worked pretty well, so long as you could avoid the bullets, but Marie had made sure the akuma were nearly paralyzed.

Back pressed up against a tree trunk, Daisya listened for the ringing to stop. There was no need to watch Kanda, so it was best if he tried to defend himself. His eyes were only just beginning to adjust to the blackness. In the evening, everything's coloured blue and purple with a bit of gold, and in the morning it's mostly pink, but this midnight darkness was without any hint of colour. The grey-looking leaves were like ashes underfoot and massing clouds overhead, reflecting the faint glow of the battle.

The faint sound of wind whistling made Daisya jump out, facing the akuma as the Charity Bell flew at him. He immediately caught it on his foot, driving it into the approaching crowd. The akuma moved pretty slowly, and they looked pretty stupid doing it.

He turned and ran, finding an older-looking chestnut to hide behind before repeating the same movements, watching Kanda leap in after him. The kid seemed to know his way around a fight.

...

Now it was getting hard to see straight.

It was only about ten minutes later, but it makes a difference when you're running for your life. Around Daisya, the trees and bushes were forming an enclosure. There was a small clearing, then a path between trees and under branches back to where Marie was only just ahead of them, but not much to run to. As it was they were both backed up against a beech, catching breath before the next wave arrived.

Let's see...the plan was to get somewhere Marie could make a nice net. That should be about here. Then just finish them off. That's a bit easier said tha-

A bullet buried itself in the bark between his head and Kanda's, and his heart jumped into his throat. His eyes slid sideways, glancing at the splintered wood then back to the front.

The forest was closing in on him where the akuma weren't.

It was funny. He could feel his blood pounding in his ears from the fear, and he could taste metal in his throat from the exhaustion. Even Kanda was starting to slow down. But this came more easily than anything.

All this in a fraction of a second. His reflexes jerked into action, pulling him around the other side of the tree at the same time as Kanda. The akuma were still too far away to properly attack, so he darted forwards through the trees, only just managing not to trip over the nest of roots. Those things were damn annoying-

He stumbled into an elm-studded clearing, just barely stepping aside as Kanda barreled through.

Marie had finally stopped to lay the trap. Before Daisya could think further, Kanda immediately leapt away to rip into an akuma behind them.

Keep Marie safe for a few minutes, that was it. The plan. Kanda was already holding the gaps in the trees, blades flashing like a whirlwind. Now there were things there, attacking the akuma along side the sword. Tiedoll had mentioned something about calamities, but that was at the back of Daisya's mind.

There was something up with Kanda. He was impossibly good, but he was on edge. Daisya couldn't fathom it, but he seemed to think this was a chore.

He slashed sideways, missed, and rolled, avoiding stream of bullets before coming up in a stab.

It was beautiful, as was the blood-red harvest moon. It hung like an eye boiled in blood.

Marie had recovered his breath.

"So, are we going to stay here?" Daisya, still watching Kanda's show. Another akuma was approaching them.

"Yes. If I tie together some of the trees as well, I can incapacitate them all. You and Kanda can finish them off."

"Great, okay. So we're going to do that now?"

"As soon as possible. Is Kanda nearly done?"

"Just finishing."

Kanda killed the second akuma with a fluid series of blows before running back. As his footsteps approached, Marie tied a string to the current tree, then started to dart between the trees with an unexpected lightness of foot, attaching a network of seemingly infinite threads to the trunks and branches.

...

Daisya gave an airy wave as Kanda skidded to a halt. Kanda looked him up and down. If he was this lax he was either dangerous or planning something.

"Marie's just building us a little cage, so it looks like we'll have to do even _more_ fighting."

Despite the tone of mock complaint, Daisya's eyes had lit up with something Kanda had noticed on a couple of occasions.

He couldn't profess to feeling the same way.

About what…?

He cut himself off, and Daisya seemed to notice something behind him.

"Mind if I take this one?" he asked, staring fixedly at a point about two inches above Kanda's shoulder.

"Go ahead."

Kanda's voice was clipped, but it didn't hold any malice.

...

Daisya leapt back, nudged the Bell to the side, then took a run forwards, zigzagging to avoid getting hit. The akuma was still a couple hundred metres away. Before Kanda realized what he was doing, he crossed over, forming a right angle to his previous line of movement, and ran hard. He'd kicked the Bell straight through the akuma before it had a chance to turn.

He doubled back behind a group of spruces, and listened to the Bell do its work. It seemed to be working better as the fight wore on.

There was an odd sound, and he remembered to run back to Kanda.

"I can't believe you managed to make Innocence into a soccer ball," muttered Kanda as Daisya skidded to a halt beside him.

"Hey, I just do what I'm good at."

The glint of moonlight off of wire or the barest glimpse of a line was all that betrayed the web woven around them. Marie seemed to be covering quite an area while the akuma were finding them. The clearing wasn't so much a clearing as lighter forest, and it gradually faded into thicker trees over a few tens of metres. Marie was smarter than he hinted.

Daisya let his breathing catch up with him, while Kanda stood straight, watching for more akuma. The grey lines of tree trunks against the black of night made the clearing look like wallpaper, without the depth afforded by light. Grey and black and grey that hinted at green and black that hinted at brown but grey and black nonetheless. Monochrome, with the terrible harshness of iron or steel. This night was dead. Hopefully none of them would follow.

...

After a while, Marie reappeared. The exorcist was moving quickly and quietly, zigzagging seemingly at random through the maze of wire.

"They will be here soon. I will not be able to kill them, but I can make it easier for you two to do that. It'll be for the best," he said awkwardly. He was never that good at talking.

"Got it."

Kanda was silent, but he nodded.

Then they waited. Not for long.


	21. Chapter 21

**Again, thanks very much for the reviews, they're great. Daisya is most certainly maturing (though he'll learn not to show it), or at least I should hope so because that's what I was trying to go for (just very, _very_ slowly). I currently have an essay to draft and another to outline in detail, as well as a lab to write. Therefore, I'm rewriting and posting another chapter of fanfiction. Quite a good idea, I must say. Anyway, enjoy, read, review! Or not, because I had a really clear mental image for this, so I can't really translate it into words without visuals. See for yourselves.**

There was no end to the akuma. A few rounds of mental mathematics told Daisya that, if you had ten houses with ten akuma each, you could get a hundred. There were more than ten houses in the village, and you could fit more than ten akuma in each, when push came to shove. If it was definitely shove, they could have a couple hundred to take down tonight. You couldn't just defeat the akuma. You had to exterminate them.

Two thicker trees stood ten, fifteen metres apart, forming a sort of choke point. Marie had chosen it pretty well. On either side, thinner trees were clustered densely, with shrubs and bushes and Marie's strings weaving between them to form a sort of living wall, swaying with the breeze. On one side of the barrier was a mass of akuma that almost seemed to ripple in the moonlight, and on the other was a clearing strung with wire like a spider's web. The scooping shape and resonant wood functioned to amplify the noise, pushing it into the oncoming waves.

Kanda and Daisya had been holding this point for some time, and from the looks of it they'd have to stay here for a while longer. There was probably a Noah somewhere around here, to keep the akuma in line. They wouldn't have to worry about fighting if it found them. They'd be dead.

And even now they were dead tired, movements sluggish compared to the lighting speed of minutes ago. It was thanks to Marie's Organum that they held their own. As soon as the akuma heard the music, they went half-mad; like animals, frothing at the mouth. They didn't last long in the hurricane of bullets, bells, and blades.

...

Kanda ran in zigzags to avoid the bullets, crushing dry leaves underfoot. The akuma were pretty flimsy to Mugen, but he could only just keep up with Marie's help.

He leapt and feinted to the right, planted his left foot, and thrust one of the swords into the akuma. The things he liked to call calamities were already at work on the others, keeping them confused. How Daisya was managing, he couldn't guess. He seemed eerily happy, but he shouldn't have been _that_ good.

Mugen swung in an arc, unleashing another wave of calamities. Kanda followed them, ripping into the akuma with as much speed as he could muster. The clamour of bells and the strains of the strings rang in his ears, along with the hail of gunfire. For the moment he relied on instinct, his vision assaulted as much as his ears were with shreds and dust and falling leaves. He slashed wildly, keeping his position far in front of the choke point until all that remained in front of him were mounds of dust.

Still, something of fear dripped down the back of his neck as he paused amidst the wreckage.

He glanced over at Marie, whose hands were pressed together, adjusting the tightness of the wires ever so slightly to provide the intervals of agony.

He was fine.

Marie should always be fine.

He whipped back to the front, leaping to the side to throw off the akuma's aim. The bullets didn't have any permanent effect on him, but they still hurt.

 _That's it._

The sword flashed again as he moved forward with the speed of a snake. His eyes flashed to the side as he doubled back behind the strings, catching his breath in the middle of the storm. Where was Daisya. He should have been just behind him...

 _There_.

Daisya's bell flew through the air, flashing even in the barest shreds of light.

But Daisya, who hitherto had been dancing in the heart of the lightning, did not fly with it.

Instead, he slouched against a tree trunk, panting. One of his legs was planted firmly on the ground, but the other just barely touched it.

Kanda turned his attention back to the front, but kept one eye on the side, trying to keep track of one dark figure in a two-dimensional staircase of black and grey. His eyes were only just working in this light.

Daisya slid back on to his feet when his bell flew back, and kicked clumsily it at the next clump of akuma gliding towards them.

It missed.

Kanda's thoughts were clear as he ran, muscles burning, towards the akuma.

Humans are naturally dominant in hands, eyes, and legs.

A right-handed person forced to use their left arm was practically useless.

Same with eyes and legs.

Kanda skidded on an outstretched leg to slow down, scattering the rubble of the forest floor, then planted his other foot to launch himself at the akuma.

Daisya said something, but he couldn't make it out.

The twin illusions sliced through its grotesque mask, but not before a bullet grazed his left arm.

A clump of bullets. In a fluid motion, the follow-through of the slash curved back around to cut away a chunk of flesh and fabric. It was easier for his body to heal this than that much of the virus.

Kanda landed heavily on the ground, his left arm momentarily useless without a section of its muscle.

He could take care of that.

As he turned back to face the akuma — now doubled, without Daisya's help, the Charity Bell rang out again, ricocheting off a tree on their right to pierce horizontally through a row of akuma.

Someone grabbed him by the collar, nearly choking him, and dragged him further back behind the wires.

...

Daisya had remembered, watching the approaching akuma, a mill.

The old man had dragged him all over the place, and England had been full of fabric mills, spinning out yards upon yards of fabric by the day. And in the mills, there was always a hum that emanated from the brickwork. Like some sort of primeval music, punctuated by the clacking of the looms. Daisya liked to try and hum the same note as the mills, and sometimes he got it.

But sometimes when he got the note right, the volume of the two sounds combined was more than just one loudness added to the other, to his ears. He'd asked the old man about that, and had gotten a long-winded explanation about 'interference' and 'waves' and a dozen other words he couldn't understand, or that were familiar but used in the wrong way. He'd ended up with the impression that waves fought each other, and when they were fighting and one hit you, that was one of the waves that would knock you into the sand. He still didn't get what that bit had to do with the sounds, but whatever.

The one thing he remembered was that two different versions of the same sound could combine better than any other two sounds, when they were in roughly the same place. Or sometimes when they were in different places, but that was a bit of a toss-up.

He'd tried to hum a note that was the same as Marie's when he felt his ankle give out. He'd gotten it, and heard the sound ringing in his ears.

He'd heard the leap in volume, and seen the akuma fall faster when more than one bell was ringing.

Now he heard different things as he half ran, half hopped a retreat. Someone yelling in his ear, to be specific. Not nice. He could taste blood in the back of his throat, and something a bit like worry on the backs of his teeth.

"Daisya, what the _hell_ are you doing? Let go _right now_."

"What, like you're going to kill them all now that you just tore a chunk out of your arm?!"

His voice was climbing up the pitches, as it did when he was excited. But the adrenaline in his veins was countered by one last vestige of logic, hence the flight through the trees, to the centre of Marie's nest.

"I'm fine, trust me! And why did you stop, anyway? Can't you even fight?"

"I'll be fine in five minutes, I just twisted my ankle. But then you had to go and cut off your own arm."

"I told you, I'm fine! I heal better than you."

Daisya didn't look back, but he heard the rage boiling in Kanda's voice.

"So then we can just start fighting once we get to Marie, okay? I've got a plan."

"Last time you had a plan you nearly killed yourself!"

"Yeah, well last time I had a plan, we both survived."

"You have to be the dumbest person I've ever _met_."

"That doesn't stop you from being an idiot with a martyr complex!"

Daisya's voice was nearly a whisper when they came to a halt in front of Marie. He was almost like a statue, arms crossed in the shadow of the forest.

"Hey–"

"I heard," said Marie, forestalling Daisya's explanation, "Kanda's right. His body is stronger than yours."

"Oh, yeah. But that's not what I was gonna say."

Daisya was now walking back and forth slowly, putting more pressure on his ankle. They still had a bit of time before the next wave hit them. Thirty seconds? A minute?

"So, you know how if you play two of the same note at the same time, they sound a whole lot louder if they're at the same place?"

"Yes. The principle of constructive interference."

Kanda was already shifting into a fighting stance, ready for the akuma to catch up. Daisya noticed that he'd dropped the double-wielding, though his wound was slowly healing over.

"Well, d'you think if you played your strings at the same note as my bell, it could work?"

"I don't know. Combining Innocences isn't something most people do."

Marie paused, and seemed to think for a moment. Daisya could see the akuma, tortured by the music but still moving, still moving closer. Marie's muscles were tightening unconsciously.

And Kanda still letting his left arm hang at his side.

"But we haven't even killed half of them–"

There was a sharp intake of breath, and Marie shifted some notes up a tritone, trying to keep the akuma at bay. The moon above them wasn't normal. You notice the weirdest things in the middle of a fight. Like the fact that it was a nice, dark rusty red. The colour of dried blood.

An akuma approached Kanda, and Daisya kicked the Charity Bell at it, breathing hard as his strained tendons protested.

The bell pierced it, and rang, but the akuma didn't slow down.

Kanda's Calamities swarmed it, and Kanda himself ran to slash into it. It was almost at the choke point, moving with the finality of a glacier.

And Daisya saw that it was different. Not a painted face on a mess of tubes, but a grotesquerie of metal.

Kanda threw himself sideways, rolling and barely dodging a serrated paw — it couldn't be called a hand.

The Charity Bell flew back, and another akuma appeared, then another. The army had finally amassed.

All the while, the strings were screaming. Marie must have cranked it up hard, because now the trees around them clawed up at the sky like teeth or withered bones. It felt like a choke-hold.

Daisya put all his willpower into his twisted ankle, and balanced on one foot.

 _Almost, almost..._

A bullet short through his hood as he kicked the ball through the files upon files of monstrosities.

" _Marie! NOW!_ "

The volume, already seemingly at a high, doubled as an impossible chord howled into the night.

The bells tolled in resonance, and Marie dropped to his knees, clapping his hands over his ears.

But Daisya stayed upright, willing every last ounce of energy into synchronization, feeling the peals of noise resonate in his chest. It was as if the Innocence was beating in time with his heart, not just keeping him from death but making him _alive_...

Around Kanda, the akuma fell like lotus petals.


	22. Chapter 22

**I actually meant to update a long time ago, but one bout of procrastination turned into another and here we are, just short of a month later. Sorry about that. Thanks very much to my reviewers. You guys are so regular that I probably don't even have to say your names, which is honestly a really lovely thing to have. To you guys, thank you very much again for the compliments (they're quite helpful), and feel free to give criticism where you think it's due.**

 **This chapter was born out of a) a pun and b) embarrassment at not having a firm grip on characters that are not Kanda or Daisya, so it might be a bit odd. Anyhow, read, enjoy, review!**

The blood-red moon circled overhead, flashing across the sky at an impossibly quick pace. Sometimes it felt as if the sky had broken into shards reflecting the light, sometimes it looked like a maelstrom had begin to spin with the moon as its eye.

As time went on, the images coalesced. The clouds appeared and shifted, stony and jagged and yet swirling, stirred by the lightning. Somehow, the moon was beneath them, staring down at him like some bloodshot eye.

There was never any sun.

And yet, against all logic, the red glow illuminated a thin copse of trees in perfect detail.

"You really shouldn't have brought them out here, you know?"

The apparition perched in the fork of one of the sturdier trees, swinging its legs back and forth. Tiedoll knew what it was. An ages-old, superhuman creature, hellbent on the destruction of mankind.

In one hand, it gestured vaguely with an umbrella, which squeaked in protest.

"Poor Kanda."

He could feel his chest convulse, as if his body was desperately trying to keep him breathing.

"He's fighting _so_ hard this time around."

The apparition pouted, with the face of a preteen denied a later bedtime.

In front of Tiedoll, Kanda — no, just an _image_ of Kanda, no matter how realistic — was panting, stars beginning to form on his skin. Beside him, Marie sat slumped, playing his Innocence with five fingers split between both hands.

The forest around them was full of splintered trunks and fallen bullets. Daisya was already a deflated cloak and a bell sitting atop a pile of dust.

" _Help me!_ "

The image still standing screamed the words with a vehemence as his fingers started to crumble.

A few seconds later, the images in front of him were only those of akuma and dust.

"Shall we try again?"

The apparition swung the umbrella around again, and the moon spun.

Tiedoll said nothing, allowing his fists to clench just enough for the change to be perceptible, then bowing his head, as if in agony. This was the Noah of dreams. The girl sitting in the tree was her form, but she would never present so obvious a target if she didn't expect him to go for it.

No, someone, something else here was the one he had to kill.

The images flashed into being again. This time it was just Kanda and Daisya and what could have been a body, could have been a corpse. He'd seen this tens of times before, if not hundreds.

A bullet caught Daisya in the shin. A spray of blood blocked his vision as Mugen sliced through flesh and bone, and Daisya screamed. Now he was crumpled up, with the shattered stump of a tibia instead of a foot.

"O-old man..."

Daisya held his gaze for a moment, looking like a lost child for the moment before his expression changed.

" _Why didn't you help us?_ "

The last thing he saw before Daisya crumpled to dust was a mask of hatred. Kanda didn't even bother to look at him before he fell. Marie gained consciousness just in time to see it.

The _image_ of Kanda. The illusion. Nothing more. He wished he felt nothing more.

Until he figured out where the Noah was hiding, he couldn't make a move. She would keep him in these visions so long as he seemed affected.

That was easy. It was remaining unaffected that was difficult.

The moon rose beneath the sky, and circled again. Lightning, in jagged handwriting, spelled a name he could not read. The sun remained a shadow.

The scenes were different, lit in grey and red like the edge of exhaustion, but the dramatis personae remained constant in their deaths.

Marie was last again, this time. Unlike the other two, he cast no accusations. In fact, the sound that echoed in Tiedoll's ear was a weary chuckle. As if the end he expected had finally come.

His heart hammered a tattoo on the inside of his ribs. There was no time. He had to get out of here quickly. But who was she? Who _was_ she?

Dead.

Daisya always died first. He rushed in, took a bullet (sometimes for someone, he recalled uneasily), and promptly turned to dust. Marie would let his guard drop for a moment, visibly dismayed, then have to somehow sever the flesh and bone infected by the bullets that hit him.

Kanda would remain standing until the end, even as his healing ran out and stars crawled ever so slowly along him. Whether he or Marie died first, it didn't matter. He was the last one standing.

Most times Daisya would be long gone by the time Marie bled out, and Kanda would collapse soon after.

But, every time, he looked up and screamed for help. Kanda, who would never do such a thing.

That was deliberate.

The moon flashed overhead.

Who was it? The apparition, whose form was the Noah, would not be the Noah. He'd already thought it was too obvious. It wouldn't be the akuma, because that would be too boring. This one wasn't sent to kill him — she was playing.

So one of the three images remaining was a real being.

But which one? She would take the one he wouldn't guess. But how would she know? If he could figure out which one he could guess, he could choose the one he wouldn't. But then he would have guessed it.

It was a conundrum. An enigma.

She would see how he felt about each of the three in detail free of self-delusion. And if he were to take the quick way out, he would have to do the same.

He was unwilling to try and choose favourites at any time, let alone a time like this. And if she found he had one, then would she even choose that one? Or have it not be them, and make the others turn to him in resentment.

It was the parent's nightmare, he thought with a sense of grim humour. She would have known it — it would produce the most difficult obstacle, and thus the most amusing result.

He let himself drop, feeling a bitter condensation in his eyes. It wasn't hard to do.

"Please-"

It was half whine, half sob. The most pathetic sound he could formulate.

"Why are you doing this?"

The apparition stopped twirling the umbrella, which sighed gratefully.

"Hmm. Why am I doing this, you ask?"

It paused.

"I guess now's the time I give you all the juicy details of my mission," it said, drawing out the last word. He supposed he should keep calling it 'she', but it was an apparition. 'She' would be one of the images in front of him. But they were her words.

"Too bad for you, I don't have much time for that yet. So how about you just get to deciding which one of these is real, hey? Just pick your favourite," it — she — said, smiling pleasantly.

The image that looked so like Daisya cried bitter tears as it crumbled. There were almost cliches in the series of scenes and storylines.

Who was it?

He had already decided why each of them could be the image, but which theory held true?

Daisya was the innocent. To kill him would be a crime beyond all comprehension. That was because he wouldn't mind too much.

And there was little that spoke more to the unfairness of the world than a child who already found so little in life to love that an adrenaline-filled death was preferable to a continued life without it.

So killing Daisya would be like killing a mangled flower with the misfortune to be in the middle of a highway. He would die anyway. Probably soon.

But his death would be a testament to the cruelty of fate. He was born to die young.

Kanda…

Kanda would die in despair, not joy. Well, maybe a perverse satisfaction at it all being over.

Kanda was an anomaly, in every way. He had heard little of what had happened before, but that had been enough. Just enough.

Killing Kanda would make sense.

But he could never do it. Kanda was a child. Kanda was his child. And Kanda was still searching.

He could never kill him, because his eyes would always resemble the ones stained with tears one night. One night out of hundreds.

And only ever once.

Marie would not want to die. Marie would accept death. He had expected it when Tiedoll had found him.

Marie would die as any person would, with a measure of regret and fear. Kanda and Daisya were fairly simple. Kanda searched, and saved. There was nothing else that mattered to him. Daisya's sole goal was to be amused.

Marie was normal; Marie was complicated. His motivations, his personality would not have any effect on his death. He could take care of himself. He did take care of himself. He was quiet, he obeyed orders, and he was kind. Marie, forever and always the ideal student, the ideal son. Not like the prodigals, whose graves were littered with the shreds of sketches.

Marie was the one person besides him who could coax Kanda into some semblance of humanity.

Killing him would be a pity. He shouldn't die, because he was better than so many and so much and he was the last living child. He never asked for anything.

He had never asked for anything.

The apparition whistled a tune.

Even when blood was pooling about its feet, the image still played the strings. It clung to the fight. Only — only so long as there was something left to fight for.

The Noah knew him too well.

He had asked for nothing.

Tiedoll got up, and made his pace a stagger, heading towards the three images.

He had asked for nothing, and he had been given it.

A wave of guilt washed over him, strong enough to make him gag, and he brought his Innocence down between the eyes that looked at him as they had for years, with neither expectation nor excitement but a sort of disbelieving contentment.

The Noah screamed.


	23. Chapter 23

**I've been meaning to edit chapter 22 but it's Christmas. Well, nearly Christmas. I'll edit it sometime, but in the meantime, a follow-up. Tiedoll is called different names based on point of view, Kanda is emotionally constipated, for all his being annoying Daisya bears a bit of a resemblance to someone else we know, and everyone's forgotten to tell Daisya something important. Not much new, but readings and reviews always enjoyed, so long as you liked the chapter. If not, well, hopefully the next one will be better.**

Kanda staggered along towards the western road. Had he the energy or an audience, he would have given a litany of complaint.

He stopped momentarily, and adjusted his grip around Daisya's chest. The sight would have been worthy of laughter in another context. An eleven-year-old child, with a heavily-built adult over his shoulders in a fireman's lift, and an arm wrapped around the ribs of another child, walking slowly under the weight.

Whatever Marie and Daisya had pulled off, they'd knocked themselves out pretty good. Them and any akuma in a kilometer-wide radius. He was still a bit fuzzy on the language of sync rates and energy drain that Komui and the scientists liked, but it seemed like the two of them together had tapped into some hidden reserve. Like those stories about people lifting carts and boulders in fits of panic. Apparently it was impressive. From his perspective, there wasn't anything special about being able to do that. Bragging about it was just stupid. But Tiedoll kept saying that he had to remember that not everyone was like him. Most people didn't think it was possible.

He stopped for a moment, sucking a few breaths in and out. Yeah, he was strong, but it had been a long night. It was being a long night. Probably. The clouds around the horizon would have choked out any sign of light even if it was day.

Anyway, something about doing that made Marie and Daisya sleepy. He'd heard that sync rates meant that you and your Innocence were working as the same thing, as two wills in harmony, but that didn't make sense. He hated having some parasitic _thing_ getting into his mind, making him a puppet of some bastard God, but his sync rates were as good as anyone's. He was strong.

But Lenalee was strong, too, and her sync rates swung up and down like her moods. Some days they didn't allow her to go train. Said she could fall and break something. Kanda knew better.

He knew Marie was pretty good. Wasn't too strong, but made up for it. And Daisya...he was a loud, annoying, sloppy brat, but he made it work. If they weren't strong, didn't have high sync rates, what did they do that made everything drop dead? Not any of that _teamwork_ crap that the French girl kept spouting. Teamwork just slowed you down, got you killed. Something about the Innocences worked together. Something about the music. He didn't remember much, but it was like the strings and the bell were just little ripples that all of a sudden were one damn big wave heading right at you.

He'd heard about the ocean. He'd seen it. He'd watched the people swimming, bobbing in and out of the water with the waves. He couldn't imagine being able to do that, just floating there without feeling something dragging you down and trying to get back to the surface and _not_ —

He hated water. It was like he was watching all over again, as he got dragged down and down and down. That's what it felt like. A wave of Innocence that knocked down and engulfed everything. He'd felt it in his lungs, pouring in through every orifice, throbbing as the waves ebbed and flowed.

The water...he remembered some of the kids would wait until the waves came in, and ride them. They could make it from fifteen feet out to the beach with one little jump. And when two waves ran into each other, the wave that came out would be bigger. Maybe the music was like a wave, and the two musics together made a sort of jump, or spring. Like the mousetraps they had at headquarters. The music was in sync, and the sync rates did the same thing, getting bigger and bigger together. And the strength, too. If they were both unconscious, then the Innocence could take over. The two Innocences would overlap to create something big enough to swamp the forest.

But that was wrong. These sorts of things never made sense.

Even if he wasn't wrong, it all sounded pretty stupid to hi—

Distracted, his left foot planted itself in a puddle, and slid out from under him. He just managed to catch himself on his forearms. After dropping Daisya, of course.

—m. Damn. He could carry Marie fine, but one more put him off balance. Why'd he have to carry Daisya? Why was Daisya even here in the first place? All he'd done was get himself beat up doing stupid things.

He pulled himself back to his feet, wiping his boot on the grass that edged the dirt road, and picked Daisya up again. It took his eyes a moment to refocus on the road ahead, leading into the village and then off into the horizon, dusty and brown, filled with ruts. The grass framed it almost like a windowpane.

The window.

Daisya wasn't like him. Stupid bastard tried to get hurt every time he could by playing the hero. He could have saved himself from the fire. He'd be healed up by now. He didn't need to get dragged to safety. He wasn't the one who couldn't deal with a broken bloody ankle. Daisya was the one who didn't heal, so why didn't he...

Why didn't he just jump?

The window. He remembered staring out. He'd seen Alma, covered in scars and marks, with two curving down from his eyes like tears.

Why'd he have to stay behind? Why'd he have to pull that stupid stunt and get his skin so burnt and charred that he couldn't even feel how bad it was?

If Daisya'd been there a few minutes longer he'd have died. He could have survived longer. He would have healed, but not Daisya. Daisya wasn't like him.

Daisya wasn't like him.

And here, here and now, he'd been a centimetre away from getting shot just to play the damn hero.

Why had Daisya tried to save him?

 _Fuck_

Kanda's breath was getting heavier again, catching in places. It had been a long week.

 _Why did people always have to save him?_

For a minute or two, he was glad no one was awake to see him.

...

Tiedoll ran out of the village at break-neck speed. He'd taken care of the Noah and her akuma for now — at least, he doubted she was going to want to show up any time soon — but it would be a while before the akuma drifted away. If Marie and the children hadn't exterminated theirs...well, first of all they could be dead, and second of all it would only be a matter of time before the akuma found him or someone less prepared.

But that wasn't a good way to think. They had exterminated the akuma, that was what was true. They had to have. All that was left was to find out how, and where they were now.

He ran beneath a multicoloured stretch of canvas awnings and past a row of shabby shops — a bakery, a post office, a butcher — and didn't think about the little, cyclical lives of the former inhabitants of the village. About the innkeeper and her sister, or the cats that now weren't fed, or the birthday cake slowly moulding over in the oven. He had learned not to dwell on it; far better to think of the task at hand. Heroes, full of compassion and sorrow — they didn't save anyone. They merely died tragic deaths. Exorcists did. Their objective was not to save, but nonetheless — he liked to think they could.

Now, where were his apprentices?

...

The farm road met up with the highway through town about a hundred metres from the first building. Another copse of trees was clustered at the side of the road, and in the centre of the crossroads a signpost pointed every which way. The letters were familiar, but the language looked like someone had taken a pepper grinder to it. Too many dots and lines. Kanda could make them out in the night, but now the sky above the clouds was lightening just enough for a normal person to make out the shapes.

Later, Kanda would again be suspicious of the Hungarian language, when an older, marginally more mature, and conscious Daisya tried to convince him to learn it. For now, though Daisya was asleep, and Kanda's mind was marinating too much in bitterness to care.

Kanda let out a breath when he saw the General, and let Daisya drop to the ground. He set Marie down a bit more softly.

"What happened?" the General asked, who had dropped to his knees, already fussing over the unconscious pair.

"There were akuma. We killed them. I don't know what happened next, but I think _he_ —"

Kanda nudged Daisya with a foot. The General was checking his pulse with a quick press of fingers to his wrist.

"—did something stupid."

The General sat back on his heels, having assured himself that Marie and Daisya weren't going anywhere any time soon.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You mean you didn't hear it?"

Behind the suspicion, there was a note of genuine confusion in Kanda's voice.

"No. I, uh, had a little run-in. Which reminds me, we should probably get out of here are quickly as possible."

"Whatever."

Kanda rolled his eyes, but his heart wasn't in it. He was too tired to care at the moment. No, that wasn't right. Too pissed off, that was it.

"If that's true, I'll make Daisya tell you about it later."

Kanda knelt down beside Marie, and gently lifted him back up.

"You can take _him_."

With that, Kanda turned and started walking again.

...

He seemed off balance again, like after the fire. He was just a bit too tired-looking. Too...not sad, not angry, just wishing he was somewhere else. Or maybe that Daisya was somewhere else. You couldn't blame him.

He'd been acting strangely towards Daisya for a while. Maybe the paper-pushers had been right, about them working together. Or maybe just terribly, terribly wrong.

Tiedoll followed him, carrying his own burden.


	24. Chapter 24

**Christmas Eve update, feat. absolutely nothing to do with Christmas and also the penny finally dropping for Daisya.**

 **You might wonder if I ever regret the things I do to this kid, such as covering him in a combination of burns ranging from first to third degree and making him draw on the emergency strength native to most humans (it allows for those stories of people lifting cars and boulders to save themselves or others), but frankly it's quite enjoyable.**

 **Anyhow, enjoy, read, and if you can, review. Thank you very (very) much to karina001 for always doing the latter two things and hopefully doing the first.**

When Daisya opened his eyes, he could barely breathe.

Not because of any damage to his lungs or anything, but because even the smallest movements sent the melody of pain into trills above an ostinado of burning aches. Every cell of his body was cashing in to repay the line of credit it had taken out the night before. Aaargh, and he felt like he was going to be sick.

Had he taken any painkillers last night? Maybe, but that was probably way too long ago. He'd been shovelling them in every couple hours these past few days.

Instead of moving, he examined the ceiling. There was a shadow on the edge of his vision that he dismissed, and the central view was taken up by a rough wooden surface. A few low cross-beams indicated that he was in an attic, somewhere. There was dust on the wood, even up there. It was probably pretty thick on the tops of the beams. No one had used this place for a while.

Above the pain, he could feel the weight of the sheets over him. They were rough, probably off-white from age, and tucked in tightly. This room was probably an old bedroom in a house that hadn't had enough people in it. There was the same draining sense, as if the room was trying to lap up every bit of life that wandered in, to have the sense of being lived-in again. Maybe some grandfather's or spinster's attic. There was a bit of a shadow in the corner of his right eye. A bedside table, probably, enough for a glass of water and a kerosene lamp. Not too fancy.

The mattress wasn't that comfortable, either. Better than the floor, though. Wasn't on fire, either.

Speaking of which, how had he ended up here in the first place? Lessee, they'd been travelling to the village. The kid said that the circus was travelling around here. Pity they never got to see it. He'd played with Kanda a bit, then they had to fight. There were trees. It was dark. The moon was red.

That wasn't it.

The last thing he remembered was…

…Marie, gasping on the ground. The shrieking noise that tore the akuma to pieces was taking its toll on him.

And Kanda, unaffected and looking almost…calm, staring at the akuma falling in shreds around him.

And then he looked at Daisya.

Daisya's reflexes kicked in, and he sat up. Bad, bad idea. He hissed in a stuttering breath, and let it fall out no less jerkily. Every square centimetre of his skin protested the movement.

Yes, the sheets were off-white. And old. The bed was pretty basic, made of wood. Where was Marie? What had happened? Where was Kanda?

The last thing he remembered was Marie…

No, the last thing he remembered was Kanda. Not anything about him, just a sense. Something to do with Kanda.

He looked sideways, to where the shadow had been in his peripheral vision. It was only then that his mind properly woke up.

…

Kanda was still there, sitting on a wooden chair beside the bed and staring at him without a trace of emotion. Not exasperation, not anger. The only indication of his thoughts were his arms and legs, both crossed defensively.

Daisya looked away, almost in shame. Kanda didn't look too angry, which should have been good, 'cause he'd probably think the stunt he'd pulled was stupid. But somehow it was…wrong.

Something landed in his lap. A glass vial, with a handful of tablets. Good old Tiedoll. The old man was pretty useful, sometimes.

"Don't take more than two."

Kanda got up, walking towards the door. Soon, his light footsteps had disappeared down the stairs.

He was alone again, for better or for worse. Though why Kanda was waiting here just to give him some meds was beyond him. Just leaving them on the bedside table would have been enough.

Daisya inspected the contents of the bottle, and poured three of the tablets into the palm of his hand. Looking around for a glass of water, or something liquid, he spotted a glass on the table and washed the medicine down with its contents. Yep, it was probably water.

He imagined the euphoric feeling of the pain fading — or even better, of the pain ceasing to exist. Those painkillers sure tasted good.

A set of less elegant footsteps came up the stairs, and the old man appeared in the doorway. The lines on his face were a bit more pronounced, making him seem older than normal. He had some killer dark circles, too.

"Ah, I see you're awake. You were quite enjoying your sleep for some time."

Daisya shrugged gingerly, eyes following Tiedoll as he made his way across the room. You didn't notice it the first time around, but he had a way of walking that made it look like he wasn't moving purposefully at all, just drifting.

"Hah, yeah. Don't even know how I managed to knock myself out. It's pretty boring, when you don't even dream."

The old man sat down in Kanda's chair, looking thoughtful.

Recollection waved its timid cue card a few seconds late.

"Oh, yeah, did Marie tell you what we did? It was pretty badass, I gotta say."

He grinned hopefully.

"Yes, I suppose it was. Combining Innocence is difficult, so I'm surprised you managed it. It pushed your synch rates up too high, though, which knocked the two of you out. Kanda had to carry y—"

"Wait— _Kanda_ carried us?" interrupted Daisya, eyebrows raised, "Yeah, right. How strong is that kid?"

Tiedoll looked confused for a moment. Then, an expression crossed his face that would be similar to that on the face of someone halfway to work who remembered they'd forgotten to turn off the oven.

"Remind me again: did I tell you anything about Kanda's special abilities?"

Daisya made a face, and shrugged emphatically.

"Dunno if he has any. I mean, he sliced up his arm and he sounded okay, so maybe he can heal…?"

Tiedoll paused as the suggestion trailed off, then nodded.

"Yes, that is correct. He is able to heal at a remarkable rate, and he also is far stronger than most human beings. He can carry you and Marie far more easily than I could. I'm sorry about not telling you sooner, but, as you know, things were a bit rushed."

Tiedoll finished the sentence in a hurry, and looked sheepishly to Daisya, who was staring at him.

He had been prepared for Daisya to be upset about not being told. However, he had not been prepared for Daisya to burst out laughing. Not giggling either, but loud, raucous laughter.

"Oh, now that's great. So Kanda can heal, can he?" Daisya asked, once he'd gotten his breath back, "Oh, I'm definitely a moron."

The General let his apprentice ramble on a bit in the pink clouds of seratonin and morphine.

"Y'see, I had to drag him off when we were fighting, and he got really pissed off, because he didn't even need saving in the first place!"

Another bout of laughter was forestalled as Tiedoll put a hand on his apprentice's shoulder to wake him up.

"Daisya, you should probably have some breakfast. You've been out for quite a while."

"Okay," answered Daisya with a resentful sort of energy, "It's going to be porridge, isn't it? I hate porridge."


	25. Chapter 25

**A very very late merry Christmas/winter holiday all, and thanks to karina001 and waterlit for reviewing. You guys are far too kind ^/-/^. I shall make a note to use more descriptive writing in the future.**

 **Yes, Daisya is going to have one of _those_ days; at any rate, his judgment's going straight out the window. Not that he had good judgment in the first place, today's just a special case. After all, opiates do have a rather intoxicating effect along with being good painkillers.**

Daisya stared into his bowl, sighed, and dug a spoon in. It shifted a bit under his scrutiny. Porridge was always suspicious-looking. This stuff was mushy and thick, and you could see it spiraling if you tilted your head the right way. And it was the same suspicious grey-brown as the worn table. Oh, well. He wasn't going to heal too quickly if he didn't eat anything.

As he reluctantly shoveled down the oatmeal, Kanda glared, and Marie and the old man were talking. Something about some 'no-ah' or something.

His mind wandered, wondering where they were. Some inn, maybe, but it looked like it was just the four of them there. And it was way too small. There was a pot-bellied stove in the corner, with a small pot and a kettle. Probably some old abandoned house. Just the stove, this table and chairs here, and a pile of wood in the corner. Four chairs at the table, two off to the side a bit. The attic was the spare bedroom, probably, because there was an opening to another adjacent room. Maybe it was one of the houses that the akuma were living in, or a farm cottage near there. The akuma'd probably taken over a ten-kilometre radius, Marie said. That was a long distance.

He pitied the circus they said was coming to the now-empty village. At least they weren't going to wander in and die, or anything.

Whoever this Noah group or bunch of things or whatever was seemed pretty serious. Marie looked a bit nervous, and even the old man seemed tired. He looked like a raccoon, between those terrible thick glasses with the taped-up bridge and what looked like bruises under his eyes. Maybe he'd got those ugly things to hide the dark circles. They broke way too easily, anyway.

As he stared off absentmindedly into the distance, a glob of porridge slid off his spoon and on to the hem of his tunic.

Whatever, he thought. I can just wash it.

With that, he went face first into the bowl

...

After Marie had pulled him up and given him a gentle duck in the water barrel outside, Daisya was most definitely more awake. In fact, his muscles had moved without any thought being involved, which resulted in his current situation of balancing on the edges of the barrel. Actually, he didn't know how he'd managed to jump about four feet straight up. It was only a miracle he hadn't hit his head on the window-alcove-thing that jutted out from the side of the cottage.

"Whoa, what was _that_ for?" he whined, wheeling an arm back to rebalance himself. Good thing he was wearing thick socks, otherwise he'd be walking on splinters.

"To wake you up. I'm sorry about that, but I find it is the most efficient way."

"But it's _freezing_ —" Daisya started, then broke off. Marie was acting way too sensible, like he always did, but he looked like he was hiding a grin more than just smiling a bit. "You messing with me?"

Marie's grin made its way out into the open. "Not really. But you do look a bit funny up there."

He walked around to the side of the barrel, and held out an arm to help Daisya down.

"You should finish your breakfast. I have heard it's the most important meal of the day."

Daisya made a face, and braced himself off of Marie's hand before hopping down. Things still hurt a bit, even after the drugs. Strike that. Things still hurt a lot.

"You serious? What about dessert?"

...

Kanda had excused himself to tidy up a bit the moment he saw Daisya, which meant that the rest of the breakfast passed in peace. The old man was really in sketching the layout of the room, and describing it to Marie at the same time. Daisya hadn't really thought about it, but he guessed Marie only had a rough idea of what was where no matter where he went. It was a wonder he could navigate. He made a note to ask about it later. His hearing couldn't do everything, now, could it?

Anyhow, Kanda was probably off somewhere sulking or folding socks, which meant that he wasn't going to be paying that much attention. Or, even better, he might be combing that hair of his.

...

"Give. It. Back."

"Ow, yeah, yeah, okay, just — _aaaaagh!_ "

Kanda twisted Daisya's collar, keeping his feet a few centimetres from the ground. He _had_ been brushing his hair, using the window as a mirror. Just enough to see your reflection in, if you were concentrating, but not enough to make you notice someone else's reflection. Or to get a good view of the chair in the corner opposite the window that had a basin of water, a bit of soap, a toothbrush, and most importantly a hair tie laid out on it.

"Come on, I'll give it back if you let me down. Please?"

Kanda let Daisya drop, feet hitting the floor hard, and held out a hand expectantly. It took a few steps for him to regain balance, but he was muttering complaints and rubbing at his throat in a couple of seconds.

Daisya reluctantly surrendered the piece of string, and Kanda took it without a word.

"So," asked Daisya awkwardly, "You're pretty strong, aren't you?"

Kanda finished tying a knot in the hair tie, and ran a hand through his short ponytail. There was a smattering of a brighter hue around his cheekbones. Looks like even Kanda could get flushed from chasing after him. All those afternoons of football practice didn't go to waste.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he muttered, still glaring daggers. Actually, he was probably glaring swords. Daisya forgot what the word was.

"Well, the old man said you carried Marie and me when we got knocked out. And you took a chunk out of your arm, but you look fine now, and it's going to be weeks before I get better," he reasoned, noting the empty fury on Kanda's face, "So, yeah. You're not like me or Marie. Or most people."

"I'm not like anyone," Kanda snapped, tightening his grip.

The look in his eyes had run dull again. Daisya noticed them, the same as after the fire, and behind the shutters. He was remembering something from some other time, some other place. Maybe some other world. He'd calculated the remark to try and get some information out of him, but it looked like Kanda was shutting down again.

Kanda obviously wasn't going to give him any more information. He'd just have to work with what he'd got.

He thought for a moment.

"What are _you_ looking at?"

Contempt dripped off of Kanda's every syllable. He did recover quickly, in more ways than one. He'd almost been angry enough to snap Daisya's neck. Not at him, but at something else. It was like he was staring at a point two inches behind Daisya's eyes. Something not there.

"I think I figured out why you hate me."

Daisya's hands were at his sides, displaying defenselessness despite the fingers at his throat. It was like dealing with a shy dog, the one that the kids two doors down had gotten off some merchant. You had to make sure it had no reason to bite you.

Kanda didn't give the courtesy of a reply.

"I got all burnt up in the fire, and you were sleeping, so it ended up with me saving you, even though you would have been fine," Daisya continued, almost accusingly.

Kanda remained silent. That wasn't it, but he was close. Close enough.

"Am I right? You've _really_ got a hero complex–"

" _Shut up_."

Kanda stared straight at Daisya. There was nothing behind his eyes.

"You're wrong."

The words were quiet, but full of venom. Kanda turned away.

Alma. Kanda. Other world. Shut down. Fire. Fall. Shutters. Weakness. Strength. Anger. _Hate_. But something more...

Daisya decided it was time to push his luck.

"Then it's because of Alma, right?"

...

He couldn't quite recall the movement, but in the course of a few seconds, Kanda had knocked him across the room, and was holding him against the wall. He could feel him trembling.

"Who told you about Alma?"

Kanda's voice was low, and guttural, and Daisya's held breath was running out. Damn damn damn damn God be _damned_ that wasn't a smart idea.

"Y-you said it when you were sleeping," he choked out, "I figured you were having a dream, or something. I c-couldn't wake you up."

The grip released. He dropped to the floor, and put a hand around his throat. _Shit_. Tears were leaking out of his eyes — Kanda's hold had grated on his burns.

"You act like Alma, sometimes," a voice said tersely. "Except you're worse."

Kanda had turned around, and left a handful of footsteps between them.

"Who was Alma?" Daisya asked, his voice rough.

"Alma was a bastard. Tried to kill me. Pushed me off a cliff."

There was something thick in Kanda's voice as he walked away. This Alma must have shaken him up. Maybe he was a teacher. Sibling. Parent. Someone you could never forgive or even try to forget.

Even if his voice was fine, Daisya couldn't have spoken in that moment.

"That's all you're ever going to know. Consider yourself lucky."

Daisya could barely hear the last words, but something in them made him get to his feet, and run after Kanda.

He'd spoken that way, once. To himself. Just before stabbing himself with the needle, trying to change something, anything, and tattooing a pair of amateur tears down his cheeks. Trying to escape. Not that badly, not in that harsh a whisper, but with the same wish to somehow erase the words he was saying as he said them. Tiedoll said that when you wanted to change something you couldn't change, you changed the things you could. It explained a lot of the stupid shit he'd done.

There was the pounding of footsteps on a wooden floor.

...

Kanda was slouched outside, against the wall of the inn. The sun beat down on the wooden boards of the house, reflecting slightly off the packed dirt and scrub of the compound. Maybe this was a garden, upon a time, before the plants took all the richness out of the soil, and just left sharp stubs of grass. Still, it was getting to be autumn, and a breeze took the edge off of whatever sun-baked monotony might have otherwise been there.

Daisya tossed the ball up and down as a token gesture, then, against his better judgment, sat next to him.

Kanda didn't even bother to look at him.

"Want to play some football?"

Kanda stared straight ahead, as if Daisya wasn't there.

"It's pretty nice weather, not all boring and hot."

Again, silence. Daisya felt his heart rate start to increase. He was ready to run at a moment's notice, in case Kanda tried his strangling trick again. The best thing, in this sort of situation, was to pretend that nothing was happening. Just ignore reality. That's what he'd done right up until five minutes ago, and look how that'd turned out for him.

"Come on, it's just a game. And I'm still healing, so you might be able to beat me, if you try hard."

Kanda raised a hand, and rapped the wall of the house once. Twice.

Daisya had to hide a smile, as his heart rate went up again. He may have been fun to to prank, but Kanda was pretty scary when he acted weird like this. By weird he meant nice. Well, not actually nice, but not actively taking a swing at him.

"Okay. Your loss, sucker."

Daisya took a breath, leaned over, and planted a kiss on Kanda's cheek.

" _Hey!_ "

But Daisya was prepared, and dodged the punch easily, and the kick, and the heel-strike, before running away fast enough to stay just ahead of Kanda.

Laughter and swearing echoed in the dusty yard.

 **Explanation, for those confused: Daisya physically resembles Alma, and acts like him sometimes, particularly when it comes to pushing Kanda off of things. Kanda is an emotionally unstable 11-year-old just recovering from one really traumatic unfortunate incident. From a few chapters ago, one knock means yes, and two knocks mean no. And Daisya just can't not wave the proverbial red flag in front of the proverbial bull. That said, his last act of stupidity is actually semi-sensible, as it's severe enough to distract Kanda without provoking him to the same level as he just did.**

 **It takes a certain type of cleverness to do something that stupid.**

 **Edit: No, Marie can't see Daisya, but Daisya's pretty oblivious and Marie likes to very passively mess with him.**


	26. Chapter 26

**I've sort of been making this up as I go along, but from this point onwards it's a lot more improvised than it has been, so forgive me for the drop in quality and frequency of updates. I'll probably revisit these chapters sometime, but for now, I'm just keeping it moving. Slowly. Sorry about the long breaks between chapters, but I should have a break in homework by the end of the month. Or not, you never know.**

 **Side note: there was this kid in grade eight who I shall not name, but he did us the wonderful favour of accidentally hitting the most annoying kid in class right over the head with a soccer ball as he passed the field where the soccer mod was playing. Other side note: I couldn't resist using Kanda's catchphrase just once.**

 **Anyhow, thanks to those who reviewed! Without further ado...**

 **The Road Onwards, Chapter 1**

Daisya wandered through the cafeteria with a stride that made his full soup bowl a miracle.

After weaving through the hordes of finders, he dropped his tray down at a table of young-looking exorcists. There were a couple of girls a year or two older than him — sisters, maybe? One of them looked pretty tired, with big black circles under a pair of equally big eyes, and the other one might have looked the same, if her skin wasn't so bronzed as to hide it. Next to them was a Spanish-looking boy about the same age as the cheery Chinese girl sitting next to Kanda, nose-deep in what looked like a book of jokes. Occasionally, he told one to the tanned girl, who chuckled only for a moment. They were never very good.

The older ones were clustered at the other end of the table. Two girls and a boy were chatting in an insistent, low murmur. Headquarters was a pretty exciting place, but these guys didn't seem to be enjoying it nearly as much as they should have. One of the girls was braiding her blonde hair, the other staring off into space with one pale hand holding a mug and the other under the table, and the dark-skinned boy with braided hair was darning a pair of socks. Boring, boring, boring.

That left Kanda, sitting across from him, and the small girl next to Kanda. The one he'd heard refused to synchronize for a while. She seemed pretty interesting.

"It's way too crowded in here," he muttered though a mouthful of bread, "Isn't there anywhere else to sit?"

"No."

"Too bad. Want to play a game after?"

"No."

Daisya sighed. Even Kanda was being boring, now.

"Aww, come on. I haven't played in ages."

Kanda looked away in exasperation, and rapped the table twice.

"''Twas but a fleeting dream," Daisya muttered, trying out some of the words he'd been reading. Oh, well, at least Kanda'd used more than one way to say 'no.'

"Don't."

As usual, Kanda considered himself clairvoyant. He was right, of course, that Daisya just wanted to use the words he'd learned from the plays Tiedoll had given him, but that was beside the point. He had a right to use fancy words, too. They made stuff more interesting.

He quickly finished up his meal. The stuff here was darn good, even if old Cookie still held a grudge regarding that incident with the cake batter.

"Anyone here want to play some football?" he called, craning his neck to see the end of the table.

He could hear Kanda getting up to leave, for whatever reason. Everyone else seemed to take the same path of ignoring him. The big-eyed girl shot him a tired stare, without any contempt or exasperation to spice it up.

"Come _on_ ," he whined under his breath, turning back to the front.

"What's football?"

The timid girl across the table had leaned forward, and moved sideways into Kanda's spot.

Ah! There was a lone flower or thistle or something in a field of boring grass.

"It's a game. You kick a ball around. You any good at kicking things?"

The girl nodded vigorously.

"I think so."

"Okay. Do you want me to teach you, then?"

She nodded again, this time haltingly. She seemed to have gotten a bit less shy during the weeks he and Kanda were away.

"I guess. My brother says I should do more things with the other exorcists."

Daisya grinned.

"Yeah, he's probably right. If you don't, you'll end up like Kanda."

The girl looked confused, and twisted a strand of her hair around one of her fingers. Her expression looked slightly taken aback, like a kitten's when it can't figure out why it can't catch the sunbeam.

"But Kanda's nice…"

Daisya could have burst out laughing there and then. Kanda? Nice?

"What's your name again, by the way? I think I forgot it."

"I'm Lenalee Lee."

"That's a nice name. A lot of 'lee's' Are you a crybaby?"

The expression of confusion returned.

"No…I don't think so. Am I?"

Daisya hopped up from the table, and stretched his arms above his head.

"I'll take that as a 'no.'"

"Okay."

He wandered over to Lenalee, and offered a hand.

"And are you boring?"

"I don't know. No one ever tells me if I am."

Lenalee took his hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

"Well, that'll have to do for now. Follow me!"

The two exorcists went running through the tables, out towards the back field. Well, one ran, the other one hopped along in his wake, as if not quite registering what was going on yet.

...

"Okay, so basically all you need to do is get it between those rocks," said Daisya authoritatively, pointing at the makeshift goalposts, "I'll tell you the rules later.

Lenalee nodded. She didn't look like she'd be too strong yet, but she'd insisted on backing up quite a ways.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Er, nothing."

Lenalee stopped staring at the goalposts, and took a swing at the ball, which took off at an alarmingly sharp angle, at least six metres straight up.

Daisya looked on as it arced through the air, flying past the field and over the heads of the fighters punching at sandbags twenty metres over.

He stood on his tiptoes to see the final trajectory of the ball, and grinned before addressing Lenalee. For some reason, he kept his eyes fixed on the field where the ball had landed.

"You know…" Daisya began thoughtfully, "I think…"

"What? Did I do it wrong?" Lenalee asked nervously.

She stood up on her tiptoes to try and see where the ball had landed, and winced.

"Oh, I did."

"Nope, not at all," said Daisya cheerfully, "I was just about to say that maybe, if I work really hard, I might be as good as you at this. But how about I say I did this one for now? I can't be saying I got beat by an eight-year-old."

"Um, okay…"

Her response was forestalled by the ball whipping back at them with all the inhuman strength Kanda could muster, followed by the unfortunate Kanda himself.

Daisya sidestepped, and roundhouse kicked the ball to the ground before it broke any bones. He grinned.

"So you changed your mind?"

Kanda came skidding to a halt in front of him, visibly holding himself back.

"Yeah," he growled, "I think I'm going to kill you now, instead of later."

Lenalee held up a hand.

"Um…"

"Well, why don't you try to beat me first?"

"Hey, guys…"

"No way in hell!"

"Excuse me…"

Daisya waved a gesturing hand at Kanda, and turned to face Lenalee.

"See? You don't wanna end up like him."

"Tch."

Kanda's expression was the epitome of contempt.

Lenalee smiled, in an attempt to ameliorate things.

"Kanda, why don't you play with us, if you're over here anyway? It _should_ be fun."

Kanda was unimpressed.

"Yeah, right. It's not a good idea to be anywhere near Daisya, you know. He talks too much."

Lenalee appeared to consider this, then turned to Daisya.

"If he plays with us, will you be quiet?"

Daisya grinned, and nodded.

"Sure. Anything to get him to play, of course."

Lenalee turned back to Kanda.

"See? It'll be fine. And I promise I won't talk too much either."

Kanda sighed, and glared at Daisya.

"Have you even taught her the rules?"

"Nope. But you don't really need them with three people, right?"

"She should still learn them."

Daisya rocked back and forth on his heels.

"Fine, if you _want_ to."

Ten minutes later, and it was Lenalee and Kanda against Daisya. Rather an unfair match, if Daisya did say so himself. Winning all the time was boring.

Another ball shot at the goal, and he blocked it effortlessly, and shot it back to Kanda.

"Want a replay? I'm sure you'll do better this time–"

He jumped up as the ball whizzed by, letting it hit his shoulder before kicking it to Lenalee, who had taken the position of defense.

"You want to try?" he asked slyly, "You might be better than Kanda, though that ain't saying much."

" _Daisya_..."

The ball soared through the air, this time upwards instead of outwards, and landed heavily on Kanda's head for a second time. Daisya nearly cackled in glee: Kanda's fists clench hard enough to make his skin even whiter. Lenalee had achieved by accident what he suspected would take months to accomplish. Hopefully this wasn't just beginner's luck.

He was talking about hitting Kanda over the head, but having enough of a hold over Kanda to make him hold his rage for a moment could fit too.

Daisya kicked the ball up, then balanced it on his knee.

"Okay, I think it's my turn. Watch out!"

...

An hour or so later, Daisya had narrowly avoided several bloody noses and been a bit too slow to avoid one of them; Kanda had nearly overloaded his system with bottled-up rage; and Lenalee had proved she was to be reckoned with when it came to kicking force, if not aim.

"All right! Wanna go again?" Daisya asked, enjoying the after-effects of morphine both endogenous and artificial.

Kanda took a look at him, made a facial expression Daisya wished he could replicate, and slowly walked off. Lenalee looked slightly guilty.

"I think I should probably go back, too. My brother says I shouldn't strain myself."

"Oh, okay. Thanks for playing, by the way. You could be really good, if you practiced a lot."

Lenalee looked slightly bashful.

"I'm only really good at it because of my Innocence," she said quietly, "I have to be good at kicking."

Daisya shrugged.

"Doesn't change that you're as good as Kanda, and you're not creepily strong like him. Wanna play again sometime?"

"Maybe," Lenalee said, turning to walk away, "See you at dinner!"

She broke into a light run, and Daisya decided that maybe it was time to get a cloth. His shirt was starting to stain red.

He grabbed a small vial from his pocket, popped a couple of tablets in his mouth, and started to run in the direction of the laundry.


	27. Chapter 27

**Thank you very much for the comments, and apologies because this next arc will be short and really, really inconsistent, and the next update might be a while away. Anyhow, enjoy (if possible)!**

"What power controls Poland and Lithuania and all those bits up north of there?"

Daisya had sprawled out on his bed, and held the atlas above his had to read.

"Russia."

"Lenalee?"

"Yes, Russia, I think."

"Correctamundo."

Daisya rolled over, and tossed the book to Kanda, who caught it with ease.

"What regions of Germany were Prussian before unification?"

Daisya's hand shot up, pointing straight into the air.

"The eastern bits."

Lenalee nodded.

"And some land on the western bank of the Rhine."

Kanda sighed, and handed the atlas to Lenalee.

"Correct. Daisya, don't write that on the test."

Daisya waved a hand.

"Like we'll ever be asked that."

"Well," Lenalee said brightly, "You never know. Anyway, what two empires are the 'sick' empires?"

"Austro-Hungary and the Ottomans."

The two boys spoke in unison. Daisya sat up with a grin, and Kanda scowled.

"Did we get it right?"

Lenalee nodded. "Yes."

"Hah! Told ya I was studying enough."

"Whatever."

Lenalee tossed the atlas to Daisya, who flopped back down on the bed.

"How about we do something harder, eh?"

"Um, okay. I might not know all the answers, though."

Kanda waved a hand dismissively.

"You don't have a test, so you'll be fine."

"Okay! What regions of the Ottoman Empire have the highest akuma..."

Here, Daisya paused, and frowned.

"In-key-"

"Incidence."

"...incidence, thank you very much Mr. Know-It-All, and why?"

The atlas got passed around a few more times. It bears mentioning that the maps in it were a bit different from your typical ones depicting geographical formations and political borders. There were a few of those, yes, but a significant number of the maps were coded with different colours and shades for odder parameters than just rainfall and heat. Some of the legends read 'number of akuma sightings in winter' or 'number of innocence pieces collected after 1815'. Needless to say, the atlas was thick, so tossing it around doubled as weight training.

...

The answer, for those curious, to Daisya's question is as follows: the Caucasus mountains, any regions with a high Armenian population, and Bulgaria.

Akuma incidence is dependent on roughly two factors: death rate, and Innocence concentration. That isn't all, sadly. The Earl uses akuma frequently to run errands, such as eliminate exorcists and finders, as well as brokers who have lost their usefulness. Thus, the charts are useful in determining whether or not the exorcists' top priority should be to find Innocence or to exterminate the akuma.

If the former is the case, a tag-team of up to three is sent. Single exorcists can also complete the job, depending on the usefulness of their finder and the skill of the exorcist. Notice that, while exorcists are skilful, finders are useful.

Anyhow, the second situation will call for more than just a few exorcists with more than just moderate skill. This sometimes a problem, as finding more than three free exorcists is difficult, let alone finding ones that can suppress the tendency to cabin fever. Let us define the latter term as follows: the symptom that a small group of people, when in close proximity with one another for an extended period of time, develop; the will to strangle one another or to yell, or just escape. Some are more prone to it than others, and groups from approximately three to ten people, depending on how similar the personalities are to one another.

The Black Order is good at people-managing. This will not be very relevant to our story for another, say, four or five years.

...

"Hey, that was actually a pretty decent game."

Daisya kicked the ball in circles, then switched to figure-eights. Marie and Lenalee had gone off to find some water, but Kanda was just leaning against the wall, and looking sullen. He did that a lot.

"Yeah, right. None of us has any idea what we're doing."

Daisya switched to kicking the ball against the wall, earning a glare, but continuing nonetheless.

"Well, I'm better than everyone here, and Lenalee's okay. You and Marie aren't so good, but hey, we've got even numbers."

"But we still don't have enough people to play a game with a goalie. Or even use any of the rules," finished Kanda contemptuously.

He seemed to like the rules, because he never missed an opportunity to complain about how bad the four of them were at football.

Hmm.

"We never played by the rules when I was a kid, so why should we do it now? Life doesn't have rules."

"Life isn't a game."

Daisya halted the ball momentarily, and grinned.

"And that's where you're wrong."

He resumed kicking the ball and bouncing it off of every available surface.

Kanda did like to complain, but he was sticking around.

Something clicked.

"Tell you what, I could teach you some stuff if you don't want to suck so much at it."

"It it gets you to stop making me play when I don't want to."

Aha.

Daisya wandered to the bag he'd leaned against the wall, and fished out some pills and a bottle of water. He downed a couple of tablets, and looked over at Kanda.

"Well, if you're just going to sit there, I'm going to make you play. What do you say to passing practice?"

"Whatever."

"Thanks very much."

Daisya grinned, and leaned over to give Kanda a token of appreciation. He'd play better if he was all riled up and competitive.

Thanks to his reflexes, he dodged Kanda's elbow of retribution. Unluckily, the kick caught him off guard.

…

"Do I _have_ to?" Daisya whined, "Jiujitsu or whatever doesn't work against akuma. I can already handle my Innocence, you know."

Kanda folded his arms, scowling.

"You're going to end up fighting some human bastard sooner or later. Just suck it up and go to practice."

"But I don't _want_ to."

"I thought you liked exciting stuff."

"Standing around and getting beat up by you isn't exciting."

"Then why do you keep asking for it?"

Daisya raised his hands.

"You got me there. Anyway, if I go now, then I'll have to practice my moves. Over and over again. That's why it's called practice. It gets boring."

Kanda, who had hitherto been standing in Daisya's doorway, strode through and caught Daisya by the collar. Before Daisya could voice a question to match his look of confusion, Kanda had turned and started to drag him into the hallway.

"Ow, hey, that hurts!"

"If you shut up and stop resisting, I'll let you go."

"But I don't want to and you're hurting me—"

"Just shut up. Aren't you taking enough of those meds to knock out Marie?"

"Well, my burns are still pretty — aargh!"

"I told you to be quiet."

"Okay, okay!"

Kanda shot down the hallway, with Daisya hopping along to keep up with his brisk pace.

…

"Keep your knees straight. And tuck in the back of your shirt."

Daiysa obeyed reluctantly.

"What does the shirt have to do with anything?" he grumbled, "Can we do some kicking now, or something? Th—"

"If you say 'this is boring' one more time I _will_ give you kicking lessons."

The two of them stood facing one another in a corner of the training centre, on mats that _definitely_ weren't thick enough. Or soft enough.

"Oh-kay," Daisya enunciated slowly. Kanda was a _lot_ stricter when he was teaching.

The walls were simple plaster-covered stone, reinforced by wooden beams. It was pretty crowded most of the time, and now was no exception. A group of finders was having a wrestling competition, a few of the adult exorcists were going through drills, and the two older girls — Antonia and Hell or something — were having a no-holds-barred match in the boxing ring.

Daisya had already gone to another place when Kanda decided to take matters into his own hands. By matters, it meant Daisya's wrist.

"If you don't stand properly, you're going to fall over before you can do anything. Straighten _up_."

Kanda twisted Daisya's arm behind his back in one smooth motion, punctuating the last word with a wooden knife to the lower back. Daisya's balance shifted evenly between his feet.

…

Good, Kanda thought. He had a habit of balancing too much on one foot.

Also, he didn't complain about the pain for some reason. Maybe he'd finally sucked it up, but Kanda wasn't too hopeful.

"Now stay like that."

Daisya made a face, but he remained balanced. Good.

"Do you do this every day?" he asked, "Or do I have the only Innocence that doesn't need Kung Pao or whatever."

Kanda put on a pensive mask, but it wasn't too solid. Daisya was annoying, but he was also a fairly unshakable target.

"No, you're not that special. And that's a type of chicken."

Daisya slipped momentarily into his uneven stance, then balanced again. Not bad.

"Well, Jeanne's got the mace and chain, Kiki has her glove-things, and I think Isaac's Innocence is that set of brass knuckles, so they all have to be down here. What are the other Innocences?"

Kanda whipped a punch at Daisya's shoulder, but he managed to dodge in time.

"Don't get off balance. Anyway, how–"

"I hear them talking. Sometimes I come down here if I need to get you. The other ones don't talk about it much. "

"Quit interrupting me."

"Hah! I was right about your question. Can we do something else, now?"

Kanda sighed, and relented. Keeping him on one thing was only going to make it worse. Even if he just knew the basics, that might be enough.

After all, he wasn't pretty, like him or Lenalee. Not even in the dark of a run-down inn, to a drunk with only two things on his mind. Not at all.

…

Daisya was pretty disappointed when they did throws instead of strikes, but then Kanda decided to throw him on his back instead of his side.

Once he'd gotten his breath back, he went about it with a bit more dignity. No more complaining about it being useless, oh no. Not after Kanda said he hadn't even thrown him properly.

Damn, it was a pain in the ass. Well, pain in the ribs and the back and the burns.

Kanda lunged at him, not too fast, and Daisya pivoted to grab his arm, and turn so that they were both facing the same direction.

It was sort of fun, actually. It was all about letting the other guy go exactly where he wanted, and helping him get there.

Kanda landed perfectly, slapping the mat and rolling to his feet. It was pretty obvious that he was making his easy, otherwise Daisya would be the one on the floor and he wouldn't be getting up like that.

Now it was Daisya's turn to attack. He feinted a punch, but planted his foot and went for a roundhouse. You didn't need fancy training to know one of those.

But Kanda had fancy training, and he knew how to deal with it. _Ouch_.

Ah, and Kanda seemed…not angry. Which was sort of an improvement. His eyes were narrowed slightly in concentration, and there was the usual half-scowl, but he seemed relaxed. At any rate, he wasn't thinking about much that made him angry. He was probably enjoying the opportunity to get payback for the thing with the bucket of whitewash.

It was nice to watch, and any rate. Kanda didn't seem to be happy too often. When he was poring over maps with Marie he was, or practicing down here with Lenalee, or following the old man around and complaining about him. Hey, it was a fine old tradition.

They made him less angry. Daisya wasn't sure Kanda could ever be contemptuous of them. He could probably hate them, all right, but he seemed to actually respect them. Respect wasn't something Daisya did too well, he thought as another strike came flying at him.

He threw Kanda again, up and over his shoulder.

"You're using your arms too much. Do it again."


	28. Chapter 28

**Okay this is absolute shit but I'm utterly unmotivated and lazy, so I'll just edit later (I say, and never remember). Sorry about the wait, but between the beginning of February and now I've had a shit ton of stuff due, so this week's about the first that I can really relax.**

A few days later, Daisya, Lenalee, and Kanda found themselves standing awkwardly in front of a desk, and more awkwardly in front of a woman who spun in her chair. In front of her was a desk, and behind her a very tall, very full set of bookcases, crammed with ancient illuminated grimoires and scrolls of parchment. There were also the more modern penny-dreadfuls that she read in her spare time, badly disguised as files. Daisya would later steal a folder of them, and discover far more about the Director than he ever wanted to know.

"It looks like it's just a small Innocence mission, so you three should be fine handling it. Actually, I wanted to send just Lenalee, but your brother wouldn't let me send you out without at least two others, so, you know, I had to send all of you."

She spun herself around again, and grabbed a roll of paper from behind her, before completing the circle and laying it out on the desk. A painted nail traced an outlined route to a Cornish village.

"It should be just here. Tintagel, is where you're going. A tapestry in the castle started displaying moving pictures. Just get a hold of the tapestry there, and you should be fine. There are a few finders there, but no akuma have shown up yet. Any questions?"

The Director cocked her head to the side, and spun around again. Kanda resisted the urge to sneer. She didn't take kindly to resistance, as he'd found out when she first took the post a few months ago.

"No."

"Ah, wonderful. It should be fun for you three."

She smiled vaguely, and waved them out of the room.

…

The doors closed behind them, and Daisya's face immediately coiled into a look of incredulity.

"Does she really like spinning that much?"

"Be quiet," Kanda snapped, "She's in charge of the branch. She does what she wants."

"Well, _someone_ woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

"Yeah, I just got told I have to put up with you, even when I'm on a mission."

Lenalee sighed quietly.

"Guys, please don't argue. We're not going to get very much done if you two don't get along."

Daisya waved a hand.

"Don't worry, we'll be fine. We managed to put up with each other for weeks when we were on our last mission together, didn't we?"

"It was our only mission together. You pushed me out a window."

"Now that's not fair, you're taking it out of context–"

"And then you made me carry you all the–"

" _Guys_ …"

Lenalee had stopped in her tracks, and planted her feet stubbornly.

"You two are going to agree to get along _right now_ , all right?"

Daisya grinned without a hint of shame at being less mature than the girl who was several inches shorter and at least a year younger than him.

"Okay, sorry. Kanda, want to apologize?"

Kanda grumbled, and his apology came out through gritted teeth.

"Sorry."

…

Daisya laid a change of clothes on top of the bedroll, and tried to muscle it into a roll. His fingers barely hurt at all, now.

That reminded him…

He got up to fetch the glass vial on his desk, and emptied the contents into a small purse. He did _not_ want to forget those.

He tied up the mouth of the bag, and shoved it in one of his pockets. Pockets, he had to say, were handy. Perfect size for hiding a hair tie, though that was a mostly futile effort.

He returned to the bed roll, and managed to get it into a rough cylindrical shape. Eh, close enough.

You only needed on piece of string. Loop it around, go over five inches, loop it around again, go under, up, and tie it off.

He planted his foot on one end to compress it, and tied the string off as best he could. You didn't want it too tight, otherwise you'd scrape the skin off your fingers trying to untie it. And his fingers had only just healed.

Oh, yeah, and he needed to pack bandages.

He fetched a roll or two, and stuffed them inside the roll. It should be secure enough.

Hah, it had been a month since they'd gotten back, and he still looked like a walking mummy. He could sell himself off as a fancy ornament to some bunch of nouveau riche, if he wanted to. They really liked their Egypt stuff, according to one of the finders. He'd overheard the guy — Art, was it? — gossiping about his time as a footman. It sounded like a pretty miserable job.

Let's see — bedroll, rucksack with extra food and water, bandages, medicine, and the Charity Bell.

He shook his head, and heard the familiar jingling from the tail of his hood.

All set.

…

He kicked Kanda's door, and waited.

"Go away."

Daisya could have laughed. Kanda acted like the mission was some sort of punishment, but he was probably going to be the one dragging them on.

"You packed?"

"Yeah, now go see Lenalee, or something."

"Okay. We're leaving in fifteen minutes, so don't be the rotten egg."

"Yeah, yeah."

…

Lenalee, true to form, was already waiting outside her door with a pack that was far too big for her.

"Is Kanda ready?" she asked, rocking back and forth on her heels.

"Yeah, but he won't come out of his room."

"Oh, he'll be out in a few minutes. He just likes to make sure he isn't forgetting anything. What's funny?"

Daisya stopped giggling.

"Oh, nothing. He acts like a housewife, if you let him."

"I don't really know what housewives are like. Do they worry a lot?"

"Yep."

Lenalee balanced her chin on her fingers, looking thoughtful.

"Hmm. Maybe he is a bit like one."

"He is, trust me," Daisya said, then quickly added: "Don't tell him I said that."

"Okay."

…

"So, this time we've got to take the train to Plymouth, and wing it from there?"

"Yeah."

The trek to the station was as arduous as the first time, but it felt like it had taken place years later. The air had the bite of autumn in it, and the sun shone weakly in a sky mottled with clouds. Around them, the fallen leaves smelled of comforting decay, and the rain that had fallen a night or two ago.

"It's really nice out today," Lenalee commented above the silence, "Don't you think?"

"Yup. Not too hot, not too cold, and it's not too dry. You like this type of weather?"

Lenalee shrugged, looking up at the patterns of cumulus across the sky.

"Yes. I really like it when it snows, too. It looks pretty. Do you like snow?"

Daisya nodded, watching a horseman morph into a dog.

"Yeah, it's nice. We didn't get snow at home, really. It was always hot and dry. Well, no. Sometimes it was cool and dry. Mainly I just like it when it's not dry."

"So you didn't like how it was at home?"

Lenalee's voice sounded a bit off. Daisya searched for a word to describe it. Not smaller, not weaker, but sort of…from far off. Empty. Like Kanda's eyes, when you knew something else was there but you couldn't see it for the life of you.

"No, not really. It was really boring, and I always had to keep track of my brothers and sister. They were really annoying. And everyone stopped playing with me after a while, because I was too good at stuff. I even told them that they could still play with me, even though I was better than them. It was really weird."

He hears a giggling sound.

"What's funny?"

Lenalee put a hand over her smile. Back to normal. She was better at that than Kanda, and she looked nicer after, with all her smiles. Sort of like his little sister, if she hadn't been a crybaby.

"Nothing. I haven't been home in a while. I left when I was young, so headquarters is like my home. It's nice, with my brother and Kanda and everyone."

A few minutes passed as they walked, Kanda trailing out in front, and the other two following.

"So, did one of the Generals teach you, or did you just figure stuff out on your own?" Daisya asked.

Lenalee shook her head.

"General Yeager's teaching me. I don't think I could get this good on my own."

Daisya shrugged.

"You can get pretty good, even if you're just teaching yourself. I taught myself a lot of things. Well, my parents started teaching them to me, but then they were busy, so I always had to teach myself the rest. You could probably teach yourself like that."

"I guess so. I can't really remember my parents, so I learned everything from my brother and Jerry and General Yeager."

"That makes sense. How old are you again? Eleven?"

"No, I'm nine."

"Wow, you're really not old. No wonder you're so tiny. You must have been really small when you came here."

Lenalee laughed.

"I was. I've grown a lot, though. Maybe I'll even be taller than you, someday."

"I can't have that!" Daisya exclaimed in mock outrage. "At least I'm still taller than you and Kanda now."

" _Now_ ," Lenalee repeated mockingly.

"Yeah, actually, you're three years younger than me, so you'd probably be taller than me if you were my age. Mom said the girls always grow faster."

"I didn't know that. Do they?"

Daisya made a face. "They did in my village."

…

The train came in a cloud of steam and the scream of metal on metal, and the rolling countryside faded into the clouded heath and moors of the southwest.

Daisya had gobbled up books, but he had not yet read that this place used to be separate from the greater part of England, like Wales or Scotland or East Anglia. This information wouldn't have been important, but it would have explained the sense of things being somehow _different_.

…

The three of them, accompanied by a finder named Liba, walked across the Cornish landscape, crossing moors and fields. There was a sort of foreboding that hung over the rocks and heather along with the mist. It was pregnant with a warning: do not push your luck. Move on, admire the beauty of the wild grasses and the sea, but do not stop for long. There are things far older here than you would like to encounter.

The path ahead was paved with neither asphalt nor gravel; it was just a thin strip of trodden-down dirt and grass winding away over the rise and fall of the landscape. Clouds blew around them, a net of fog to catch all who wandered astray as the evening settled in. Liba had said they could get to the inn before midnight, if they walked at a reasonable pace.

Occasional scraps of conversation flurried between Kanda and Lenalee, burning up in minutes like stray shreds of cloud. Liba stared solemnly ahead, casting occasional glances behind, and up at the sky. She had known the time and direction at every moment during this journey, without a watch or a chart. She might have been a mariner in another live, or a nomad.

Daisya, for his part, stared wide-eyed at all that surrounded them. This landscape was harsher, rawer than the forested roads of the continent, but in a way entirely different from his hometown. There, the threat was the deceptively warm sun, the dry sand. It felt as if the world could curve away from you, rivers running dry over the edges of the earth, leaving you a shrivelled husk clinging to the rocks that had been so nice and warm.

Here, the land seemed like it could swallow you up. Some great beast, with glowing eyes and dripping teeth, could rip out your throat and eat you alive, leaving your corpse a bed for flowers the following spring. The shifting play of light and shadow on the clouds could lead you over the cliff, to rest on the beach and be swept into the depths. Or the fog could just swallow you whole the moment you wandered off the path, leaving no trace.

The echo of the waves and the wind in the grass and the gentle sound of sea air sparked something in his blood that drove it to cycle furiously through his veins, lending a new edge to his senses.

The little group crested a rise, right near the edge of a cliff, and suddenly the fog fell away. The last light of sunset hung in the sky, melting like butter, and Daisya's eyes caught on the rocks and jagged waves.

It was as if he had looked into the eyes of this place, staring into its old and melancholy soul. Look, it said, here there are things that have not been and will not be for centuries.

Look, it said. Remember.

Yes, Daisya thought. I remember.

"Daisya!"

Liba's voice shattered the sea-textured silence, and Daisya returned to the group.

…

The inn was like any other: a beacon of candlelight in the swirling darkness. The clientele chattered and murmured, amongst the clink of glass for those as could afford it. Rough men, with charcoal dust on their hands and a stoop in their posture, drank from wooden mugs.

Daisya only just noticed it, but Lenalee seemed to have drawn closer to Liba as they entered. Kanda, too, took up position at her side. Daisya wondered if Lenalee was a bit nervous about going out after all her time inside, or if Komui had given orders.

He did seem awfully concerned for his sister. Sure, Lenalee was way better than his own sister, but you couldn't live with someone for years and not get annoyed by basically everything they did. Could you?

Kanda tugged on his coat, dragging him after the newly-departed Liba. She did walk fast.

The finder strode straight through the crowd, navigating the drunkards face-down in stew and the odd city man scrunched between two miners. A few of them took notice. They turned, grinning smiles that had little to do with anything so pure as contentment. No, they looked more like the sick grimaces of mad dogs. Hungry. Inhuman.

"What's a group of pretty little ladies doing here? Have we been good this week?" one slurred, leaning over into their path.

He'd been on the sauce for a while, from the smell, and his fingers were slowly unwinding from around the handle of the mug. What was this stupid bastard expecting? No one would accept a compliment from someone that dirty—

Daisya stopped mid-thought when he noticed Kanda's and Lenalee's reactions. Kanda flinched hard enough to stagger, and Lenalee's eyes went curiously blank.

Not that they were curious. It was just that there had to be a reason they were so blank, which made Daisya curious. English was a weird language, though he supposed the others did that too.

"We're here on business," Liba said sternly, "Which is more than can be said for you."

"Well…"

Something in Liba's hand flashed, and she leaned over the man to whisper something. Daisya couldn't quite see, but he didn't think she was asking him out on a date.

Immediately, the man nodded stiffly, and turned back to his table.

"Come on, come on, we don't have all day."

"It's night."

"Daisya, shut up."

She sat them down at a corner table, and told them to stay put. The look of resigned disgust on her face told Daisya that this stuff with the drunk guys wasn't too rare, and that he was missing someone.

This, for its part, made him want to find out why. Mysteries were interesting.

 **Inconsistent style? Terrible purple prose? Really vague references? Short chapters? Long waits? An incurable addiction to the 'enter' key? You have come to the right place, my friends.**


	29. Chapter 29

**Thanks so much for the comments, guys */* (though sadly this arc is short and filler so it will probably be a disappointment). Much appreciated! Actually, the feedback here is waaaaayyy better than ao3, which may explain why I keep forgetting to post there. Oh, well, I like the formatting here better, anyway.**

 **I've never been to Cornwall, and I actually didn't even have the good sense to go on google maps before I wrote this (oops). But, it looks like I've gotten the geography correct. I just based it off of some pictures I saw in a walking book a few years back, when I was in England, the geography of Newfoundland, and what I thought it should look like. Not the best way to go about things** **(^～^;)ゞ, but I did get lucky.**

 **Anyhow, happy April Fools'! Now that I think about it, I really should have posted a nice My Immortal-style joke chapter.**

They woke up early, hours before sunrise. They hadn't so much slept as napped, but getting to the inn early gave them a base for their equipment. They needed to travel quickly from here, and get to Tin Tangle or whatever. Hopefully before dawn. The finders weren't in dire straits just yet, but they didn't want to be.

Daisya tried to remember everything he'd heard about the place, as they walked the winding road. Some old King had been born here, they said, but it had been so long ago that no one quite remembered how much of him was real and how much of him was legend. He'd read a bit about him in the stories the old man told and the books he'd gobbled up.

Some French guy who sounded a bit like a duck had written this big, long, complicated book about him. Daisya hadn't read it, but the old man had. He told stories sometimes. This King, Arthur, had a sister and an old mentor and a nephew. Morgana, Merlin, Mordred. They sure liked those M's. Anyhow, the sister hated him and his nephew killed him. That was family for you. It sucked.

He tried to imagine who would have killed him, if he became famous. His brothers had more energy, but it would probably be his sister. She had more motive. With the amount of attention his brothers paid to everything, she'd probably drowned by now. Or maybe one of his brothers. Then, he'd have to go back and run the shop. Or mom and dad could just have another kid...

The thoughts drifted through Daisya's mind gently, but the afterthought hit him like a ton of bricks.

She — they — might be dead without him.

Not that he really cared. At most he'd see them twice a year, from now on. Probably only once a year, and only if Tiedoll or Marie dragged him there. Kanda wouldn't bother and Lenalee was still too small to lift him. What sort of a brother was he, wondering about that?

He'd thought it was the normal sort, but Lenalee and her brother made it seem like normal siblings liked each other. Truth be told, he did miss having someone to boss around.

Not that they ever listened to him.

Not that anyone did. The Order wasn't much better, but at least it was fun.

His left foot caught on a grass-covered stone, and his memory lurched off the train tracks of thought.

This was a land of story, after all. Not memory.

He remembered it pretty clearly, after gobbling the book in a few days. He'd asked if it was all real, if this rainy, cold land had people as interesting as the weather, and the old man said that only a tiny bit of it ever happened. That there was probably a king called Arthur, and he might have had a sister called Morgana, but all that bit about magic and destiny and Avalon was all fake.

Daisya had been disappointing. It was such a boring cop-out. Here he was, hoping that this boring old place could have something cool hidden on the clifftops of Cornwall, but no. It was just another story made up by people who wanted to have some fun.

He could understand, a bit. Sometimes he wondered about things. Like why the moon stayed in the sky during the day, but the sun was never up during the night.

And looking at the mist, thick as soup in the night air, and the heather-clad stones, he could imagine why you'd think there was some magic in this place. It seemed alive.

So what if there was a King Arthur? What if he had a sister? What if that sister had a son?

King Arthur was born here, in — in Tintagel, that's what this place was called. He grew up running all over the moors, diving off of clifftops, and the like, until his mom and dad said it was too dangerous, maybe.

The fog swirled, like hair or wine, and parted as it slid across a signpost. In the distance, an enormous shape was barely visible, outlined in the haze. They were less than a half-hour away. They'd get to the castle, get the Innocence, and be done by morning. Then, to bed and back home.

Was it just him, or was it getting darker up ahead? But that was impossible, because it was getting to be morning.

He brushed the thought off. There'd be another mission in a day or ten, after they got back.

On a whim, Daisya tried to count the number he'd been on already. The first one, with Marie and Kanda, another with Isaac — the drawing kid was was always damn well better than him — a few quick jaunts out with a pair of finders, and this. He had only been stationed at headquarters since the end of August, for hell's sake, and now it was already late in October.

He knew he shouldn't use those words, as a servant of God, but couldn't he give them a bit of leeway? The rules they already had were ridicu—

"Activate!"

A bullet thudded into the ground where Lenalee had been a moment ago, Daisya saw from behind a rocky outcropping.

He replayed the last few seconds over in his head. The darkness looming over them had coalesced out of the fog, but not before a spray of lead slugs had bitten into the ground in front of them. Lenalee was in the lead, and had seen it just in time to dodge. Kanda, for his part, had grabbed both him and Liba, and dragged them off the road instantaneously. Then, in a flare of light and sound, Lenalee had leapt — what was it, five, seven metres — straight up. For a moment, she froze, illuminated green by the glow of her Innocence.

The akuma had wasted no time in firing a new stream of bullets, aiming at the easy target, but Lenalee was quick. She dropped to the ground, darted forward, and jumped, swinging her legs in a kick that arced up and over her head.

Daisya barely had time to notice where he was, and she'd already taken out an akuma.

"Lenalee, stay activated, and keep a watch," Liba called, as Kanda pulled him to his feet. "More will come."

Ahead, Lenalee nodded, a silhouette against the falling ash.

She was nine years old. She was really nice, and sometimes shy.

She had destroyed a grotesquerie of metal and madness in a ball of flame.

She was not his little sister.

Arthur's parents made him study to be the next King, but not his sister. She was allowed to do what she wanted. And so she did.

They set off again, with a renewed vigilance. Kanda stayed in the rear, dragging Daisya forward when he started to dawdle, while Lenalee led the way.

Each of the new akuma that appeared fell the same way. They aimed, she dodged, and kicked off the ground beneath, catching them on the way up. One, two, three, four more vanished. They were only level 1, but for a nine-year-old…

If Lenalee was this good, then how powerful was Kanda?

For a brief moment, Daisya understood Kanda's anger at his defencelessness. His vulnerability. His twisted ankle and his scale-like burn scars.

He was a burden.

The moon was still high in the sky, lingering, as if waiting for the sun. Maybe it was nervous, Daisya wondered, looking at the faint blush of lilac on the horizon, maybe it hovered like a bird, or a boy, or a girl.

Back home, the girls always used to hover at festival time. The tradition was that the boys would ask the girls they liked to accompany them, but truth be told, the boys were even more nervous about it. Leading up to the festival, the girls sent messages — not actual paper ones, but things they did. Daisya didn't get it. The kids down the street said that everyone was terrified of getting turned down, but they hoped anyway.

Maybe the moon hung shyly in the sky, in its best suit, waiting for the sun to come. It knew it'd burn, and the sun would curse it out of the sky like the big, too-damn-hot bastard that it was, but it still waited. It hoped.

Maybe it came up early because of that, too. It knew it could only bother the sun when the sun was tired, just waking up or ready to sleep. It was an idiot, but one that thought it stood a chance.

Maybe.

That was a train of thought that had crossed Daisya's mind on occasion.

Why did it wait there, when it knew it couldn't last?

…

When they finally got to Tintagel, Lenalee was starting to show signs of wear. The finders had five akuma trapped in barriers outside, waiting for extermination in front of the ruined stone walls.

"Please," one said hesitantly, "Miss Exorcist, could you eliminate them before you go in?"

He gulped nervously when Kanda skewered him with a stare.

"Um, we only have a few barriers. I'm sorry. I'm really, _really_ sorry."

Daisya could bet that he was. Kanda wasn't someone to mess with.

The castle itself wasn't too pretty, squatting like some ancient tree stump. It looked like it had been there a thousand years (it probably had been) and was pretty sure it was going to last a thousand more. It was long dead, but it wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

Daisya envied the job security. Imagine, being a legend for two thousand years.

This was a nice place. He could smell the sea, and hear the waves on the cliffs.

Lenalee's face was like a doll's — set in stone — and for some reason Kanda was standing close to her, almost standing over her. He was still glaring daggers at the finder.

Daisya could hear Kanda say, "Lenalee…"

And hear Lenalee say, "I'll finish them."

No, stop, hold it! Could this be Kanda caring for someone? Could this be another curious case of Marie?

Seeing as Kanda stood by Lenalee, back when the first akuma attacked, as she floated down again, and how he stood now, it might be.

Seeing as she'd now just tried to trip him, it was probably a slightly different thing.

The akuma were the work of a few seconds, and a curtain of dust fell over the scene.

"Let's go," she said. "I'm getting a bit tired."

 **I just crammed a bunch of headcanons in here, but in this universe, Daisya genuinely hates hot, dry weather, because it reminds him of home, and loves stories, because they let him escape and give him somewhere to live for a little while.**


	30. Chapter 30

**[singing tunelessly] I have no idea what I'm doing. Is any of this relevant or even of moderate quality or is it just filler and finest fromage (had to switch languages for the best alliteration)? Am I making up completely inaccurate stuff because I can't be bothered to google the architecture of the castle at Tintagel? Probably. Am I just going to brush all inconsistencies under the rug as this being a very similar alternate universe to the DGM timeline as well as our own? You betcha.**

 **Thanks so much for the reviews, please feel free to PM re: any characters you'd like to see show up.**

They walked — in Lenalee's case, stiffly — under an archway of crumbling stone. Arthur must have walked through the same gate. For him, it would be returning home. He'd go out full of fire, and kick some righteous ass, conquer some territory, have some fun, and come back to this place where he'd been locked in a room with no books except lessons on manners, or something boring like that. Honestly, Daisya didn't see why he'd stay here, even when he was grown up. He could just grab some random kid and tell them how to run the place, then go somewhere where he could do all the same fighting stuff and not have to take care of a home.

The Innocence was deep inside the castle, the finder had said, embedded in one of the threadbare tapestries that once stopped this place from being a damn cold thing to live in. They didn't work too well anymore, Daisya thought as he shivered. Another reason why Artie should 'a run away. Sure, this place looked cool and had all sorts of interesting hallways, but it was pretty chilly, even for Daisya. Cold was only interesting if it was a treat, which he imagined it wouldn't be for Arthur.

He couldn't remember a lot of Arthur's story. He'd gotten married to some girl, and had a bunch of friends. Some girl fell in love with one of them, and it all went to hell. Then his sister's kid came along and killed him.

He should have run away.

The Slavic-looking finder that had been leading them turned along a corridor that seemed to stretch for ages. One finder stood every five metres along the wall, with three barrier devices apiece. The tapestry behind them was the usual "people with sticks poking other people with sticks," which wouldn't have been very exciting if the people with sticks hadn't moved.

They slid from one stitch to another, and Daisya couldn't tell if the thread was changing colour or if the little loops of thread were actually moving around, or if the Innocence was just changing what his eyes saw, without changing the tapestries. He'd heard it could warp reality like that.

As the three of them walked along it, various scenes played out. A single knight on foot held off a cavalry, a woman opened a door in the trunk of an oak, and in the middle, a crowned man stood at the centre of a semi—circle of knights.

Daisya couldn't remember who the knight was — it could have been any of them, because there wasn't much way you could tell the difference between helmets. Some dude having the time of his life, definitely. Daisya wished he could fight like that — just you and your trusty sword against an army of villains. Exciting! No Kanda to get snippy at you when you tried out something new and interesting, no Lenalee or Marie to feel guilty about, no old man patting you on the head and taking care of the problem himself. That was the _life_ , man.

The lady was probably the one who got Arthur's old man stuck in a tree. He couldn't really blame her, if the guy was that stupid. And the man with the crown was King. Even Daisya could tell that.

 _Who dares enter hence?_

The words wove themselves at the bottom of the tapestry in a heavy medieval script that was practically illegible. In fact, Daisya thought at first it might be "Mho daref something something," before a finder read it out.

"He's asking who you guys are," the finder clarified. She was a skinny, rodent-like woman, hunched over slightly as if to apologize for her height.

"We're exorcists, aren't we?"

Daisya heard Kanda sigh.

"We would like to let you sleep at last," Lenalee said tactfully. "How long have you been like this?"

"Like what?" the finder translated.

"Alive. Moving around," Kanda muttered, "Like that."

He gestured at one of the knights, who had turned to look askance at the King.

"Like Percival?"

Daisya tried to make out what the words said this time, and it looked like "in Percival's fashion?" He supposed the finder would have to put it in simpler words to get it through Kanda's brain.

"Yeah, but all of you."

The King seemed to grow angry.

"These are our souls."

"Aren't they supposed to go to heaven?" Daisya asked. A sudden writhing of thread told him this was not a good thing to say.

"It's our duty to keep the story of Camelot alive."

The figures seemed to have drawn closer together, and the letters were bigger and bolder. Aha ha! _That's_ what they wanted.

"But everyone knows about you." Daisya argued, stepping forwards.

"Not these, um, idiots," the finder said hesitantly, apparently taking the polite route.

"Can't you cut Kanda some slack? He's a foreigner — _ouch!_ Hey, cut it out!"

"Why did he hit you?"

Daisya rubbed at his wrist, and turned back to address the cohort. All they needed was a bit of buttering up, telling them they were famous, and they'd be easy to handle.

"He's angry that I said he didn't know about you guys. You've been, like, legendary for centuries! Some guy from hundreds of years ago wrote a massive book about you, and a bunch of other guys."

"We can't, uh," the finder said slowly, reading as as the words twisted, "We can't rest now, because God still keeps us here."

Time to pull out the exorcist card. He'd overheard Jeanne telling Isaac that you could get away with most stuff, if you said you were a part of the Black Order. People were either too afraid of God or too afraid of the actual exorcists to interfere.

"No, it's not God. I promise. We are — we're his servants. We're supposed to tell you your job is done. You can go to heaven, now."

Kanda was going to tease him about this later, he just knew it.

"We have to stop people from ending up like us."

Arthur's kingdom had gone up in smoke when he died, hadn't it? Mordred became King, or something, and old Artie died a miserable death. No wonder they wanted people to learn from it. But was this actually Arthur?

"I promise! Everyone knows about brave King Arthur, and about how he was defeated. No one's going to do anything like it again. That's why we've come here to let you sleep."

"Then who will tell our story?"

"We'll do it. I'll do it. I promise, I can write you a good story."

"'This yet to be proven."

Daisya felt a twinge of annoyance, above the baseline of contempt. What did this bunch of linen know about that, huh?

"Yeah? All right. How 'bout I tell you a story, and you can see if it's good or not. Deal?"

"Your — no, sorry, didn't read that right — we'll hear you out, and then decide."

Daisya bowed politely, heart hammering in his ears. What'd he been thinking? There were akuma at the door and here he was bragging about his stories.

This wasn't even the real King. The real King wouldn't have been some stuffy, boring old goat like this, would he? He had the whole country to do whatever he wanted, so why did he end up like this? _Why?_ Why couldn't he just lay down and die in some blaze of glory? Only some boring guy would end up here, waiting on a God that didn't come and petulantly asking someone to make him into a legend.

Arthur must have been an obedient child. He grew up, took care of his family, and stayed in the castle. He _wanted_ to be King, and do all the paperwork. He read his books, and did his duty, and ended up like this. He wasn't the interesting guy that Mr. Mallard or whatever had told stories about. This King Arthur was just a boring, average guy. That had to be it.

Daisya could make up a better story than that. Sure, his stories weren't the best, but they were better than this.

"Got it. I'll tell you one, and it'll be a true — well, the facts probably won't be right, and it won't have actually happened — but it's gonna have way more truth than something where the facts are right."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's like saying that, uh, clouds are made of smoke. They're not made of smoke, they're made of water, but they act like smoke and they don't act like water. Get it?"

He could feel the stares burning into his back.

"Continue."

What story...what story to use...? He had a half-dozen of them floating around in his brain, about adventurers and runaways and brothers with siblings, but that wouldn't do. These guys just wouldn't get it. Something...not sad, but not exactly plain and stupid. They had to like this one, right? Take it seriously.

 _That one._

In the split second it took Daisya to think, he felt the air crystallize around him.

It was cool, and slightly damp on his tongue. His weight was balanced between his feet, leaning slightly forward on the left. His knees ached from the walking. The stone around him was cold, and he could feel the heat leaching out of his skin.

The Daisya that loved his job and laughed too much had to go. In these situations, it was best to have the Daisya that spent hours up on the cliffs, burning with hatred. He'd been better at stories, back then. He had to describe this story in excruciating detail. He had to make it real, like the old ones he used to escape life, and drift in through the cracks in his skin like fog, but with the weight of the ocean. It had to be short, a simple fairy tale. It had to be _real_.

Right.

...

Somehow, Liba noticed, the child became taller. He was still, but with the promise of motion: chin up, back straight, and eyes staring straight ahead as if reading a script, watching a play that no one else here could see.

" _This is the story of the sun and moon._ "

It was just for a moment, but she saw Kanda and Lenalee flinch for just a moment. The boy's voice was coming from somewhere far away, echoing off the stone.

...

"Now, the moon is quick, and it can dance around, and every day it spins around the world."

He held up a fist, as the earth, and traced a path around it with the first two fingers of his right hand.

"The sun can't really move like that — it moves, and spins in circles, but there's a part of it that can't be changed."

His right hand stopped its orbit, and closed over the left one, making a bigger object.

"It pulls the earth around it instead."

A second time, he outlined the path of an orbit. Daisya had to explain it. Otherwise, these guys wouldn't know that the sun stayed still. It was important for them to know.

"Way, way back, at the beginning of time, there sun was there. Then the earth. Then the moon."

Clasped hands. Left fist. Two fingers.

"The moon met the sun when it opened its eyes, and saw it — the sun — and saw that it burnt stronger and brighter than a thousand stars. It gave life to the world, and without it, there was nothing. The moon was cold, and dark, and weak, and small. Nothing like the sun."

"Each day, the moon felt the warmth of its fire, and sometimes came close enough to see the light that engulfed everything, even though there was darkness all around. It took one look, and fell in love with the sun."

Daisya's cheeks felt warm, but not out of embarrassment. He was starting to get into it. Sure, Kanda was _definitely_ judging him right now, but he was too far in to go back. He was never, ever going to live this down, anyway.

"It came up early, and stayed into the morning, waiting just so it could see the it, just watch it in its splendour, being everything the moon could never be.

"But the sun was not like the moon. It burnt and scorched it, turning part of it black, and cursed it, and drove it out of the sky when it stayed too long. The sun was…"

Daisya searched for a synonym for "colossal jerk."

"The sun was cruel, as well as strong. The moon could never fully face the sun, and could not produce its own light. It lived in a shadow, burnt and scarred, still hanging on to any scrap of light the sun left in its wake.

"Eventually, the moon learned to work around the sun. It could linger a little into the morning, and come up a bit before sunset, if it was careful. When it learned that, the sun stopped hurting it. Maybe the sun just wanted to be left alone."

"But the moon couldn't understand why the sun gave so much to the earth — not burning it, not freezing it — if it just wanted to be alone.

"It tried to watch the sun, but each time it crept out into full view, the sun just turned its head, as if even looking at it was a trial.

"The moon lived like that for thousands and thousands of years. Sometimes, the sun talked to it, about the weather on earth, or the comets that passed by. The moon, for its part, just fell deeper and deeper."

Daisya let the word trail off into the dead silence. He hadn't thought about why. Hadn't thought of an ending. What did the sun want? Why did the moon still stay? Was it ever going to realize that it didn't get a happy ending?

He stretched out his fingers, groping around in half-finished stories and numbers and memories, and dusted off a pathetic little scrap. These guys would probably put up with an ending like this, even if it was cheesy. No time like the present.

"But there was something that the moon didn't know, not until later, on its deathbed."

"When the sun started to die, it got weaker, and grew bigger, swallowing up planets and stars, and eventually it came closer to the moon.

"It was in pain, but it didn't yell, or scream. It just told the moon that it was dying, and told it something else, too."

"The moon was cold, and scarred, and silvery. The sun was scorching hot and strong as steel. If the sun ever got too close to the moon — bam! — it would burn up. Die. If the sun even looked the moon in the eyes, that was the end."

"So, when the sun was dying, it told the moon that it loved it. For all their lives, they had stayed at a distance, one not daring to look, one lashing out with fury. But, in the end, it had all been for nothing.

"The moon was happy to die just to know that it was loved."

Damn, Daisya thought, hearing the last word ring out in the silence, that really was cheesy. At least these tapestry guys seemed to be paying attention.

The thin-faced finder swallowed, and thread started to shift.

"Your story is...not light."

The words came at length. Daisya had to admit, was starting to feel more than the tiniest bit embarrassed. If Kanda opened his mouth just _once…_

"Give us time to think."

 **Okay this was definitely not good, but a bit of explanation as to the whole Arthur/solar system/stories in general thing: Daisya was obviously not a very social child, being a bit of a jerk, so I imagine he liked to read and make up stories as a form of escapism. He'd project himself on to stories, like the Arthur one, to try and rationalize his existence and behaviour, which is why he's so angry when the things that may or may not be Arthur and the knights are just boring, normal people, who are tired and selfish and a bit petty, and who still follow someone else (a God) even when they're living legends.**

 **As for the rest of it, I suck at writing fairy tale-type stuff, but I can explain it away as Daisya being a 12-year-old who still isn't that great at writing.**


	31. Chapter 31

**The late, great Sir Terry Pratchett (not that I could ever claim to be even slightly comparable to him) described his way of building a plot as investigating a valley full of clouds. You see a church steeple, or the top of a high-rise, and you only start to see more as the clouds sink. This particular section is 100% clouds, which is why there's no coherency, or meaning, or point to this whole thing at the moment. At the moment it's just more Daisya psychoanalysis. And exam season is here, so this is a bit rough and the only update you'll see in a while. Sorry about that! And thanks for the comments, again. They keep me going when I'm staring blankly at a phrase I've tried to rewrite three times and that still isn't cooperating.**

It had been an uneasy ten minutes as the knights that may or may not have been Arthur's debated, but in the end they had pretty bad taste. The tapestry, now devoid of the Innocence that had kept it intact, had withered into an old rag. It was sort of sad, really, to see how it all faded away. The colours, the writing, the knights — they were all still there, yes, but in grey and faded ochre. Nothing exciting.

Daisya should have been happy to single-handedly get it over with before the akuma came, telling an impeccably crafted tale of sorrow and heroism, but it was pretty boring. Lenalee had taken care of a few akuma who didn't know they were coming earlier, and the rest of them hadn't even gotten a chance to activate. They'd gone down one by one, in piles of dust, without even really putting up a good fight. Just a few flashes of light above the dying heather, smothered in a matter of seconds.

Then he'd met the guy who could've been King Arthur, the stuff of legends, and he'd had to argue with the pious bastard. God this, our Lord that. If some son of a bitch made you live in a boring old tapestry in a boring old castle for an entire fucking millennium, you didn't _respect_ the guy. You hated him. That was how stuff went.

The old man would make him swallow a soap bar if he ever said that, but it was true. Eleven years in tourist town had bored him enough to poke his face full of holes just to try and make something interesting out of it. He didn't know what he'd do if he had to put up with that a hundred times over. All because of some guy in the sky who thought he knew best.

No Kanda to figure out, no Marie to irritate, no Lenalee to play with.

Mind you, it hadn't been just old Artie. There were twelve of them, trapped there. He didn't remember most of the names, but there was Lancelot, and Percy, and probably Lancelot's kid, whoever his name was. It might not have been too bad.

God, then. What about a god? A God? The old man had told him stories about the Roman gods and the Norse gods, but they seemed to be different from the God that the Black Order followed. Those were just humans with lightning bolts and such. Zeus kissed too many girls and Loki just wanted to have some fun. The Order's God seemed to be a lot smarter than that.

The old man said he knew everything, and that he always did the right thing because of that. He didn't look like he believed it. The finders said he was like a schoolmaster: he wasn't that nice all the time, and it was boring when he was around, but you came out of it better off. Though they didn't say that when only an exorcist came back from a mission. Mostly they just sighed, and prayed harder that they wouldn't die. For people who should'a been fine with dying, because it was always the right thing, they sure didn't want to. They never seemed to have much fun.

The exorcists never seemed to talk about it. They just showed up in the chapel when they had to. Kanda just read prayers off of the hymn book. Lenalee and Marie seemed to have something more to say, but try as he might he couldn't quite hear what they murmured. The older three didn't say anything, and Kiki followed Kanda's example. Jeanne and Isaac played chopsticks to pass the time. For servants of God, none of them followed the example very well.

And Daisya? What did he do?

Depends. Some days he recited the multiples of eight as high as he could go. Some days he joined in with Jeanne and Isaac. Some days he was quiet.

The one thing he was sure about, when it came to God, is that he didn't know what to think.

So what if God says he knows everything and is always right. He says that, too, but Kanda never buys any of it. Prove it, Kanda always says.

Let's say God's right. He's good. He sent the old man to whisk Daisya away into a life where he can do whatever he wants, have as much fun as he wants, eat as much shark fin soup as he wants, and no one will tell him to minds his manners or his siblings. God's great! He put Kanda right there, where Daisya couldn't miss him, and hand-delivered a bundle of mysteries that are gonna take _years_ to get through.

So, from what it looks like, the old man's pretty right.

But that isn't the whole picture. Not by a long shot.

If God's so good, then what happened to Kanda? Why does it make him grind his teeth whenever someone saves him? Why does he toss and turn at night and whisper "Alma" like it's a curse? Why is Lenalee so nervous?

Even if he's being petty, Daisya's covered in ugly scars. Sure, he earned Kanda's trust, but why did it have to take that?

Not like he cares, because friends are only really for keeping things un-boring, but no one's going to like anyone that _hideous—_

It was when his heart started to beat in his ears that Daisya decided it was time to stop thinking. His piggy-back cargo, who was sound asleep, might hear it. And besides, he was starting to see weird pictures in his head. One of the older exorcists, with long, thick, matted hair, staring at the stump of her wrist with a kind of disgust.

He always got their names mixed up, but this one was probably Antonina. She had one hand. She liked to grin. Each time she did, it crawled slowly across her face, with an expression in her eyes that made you, just for a moment, expect blood dripping from her mouth. Her hair fell into her eyes, and she sat hunched over at the table, every lunch, every dinner, laughing harshly and too loudly, looking feral. Her eyes were sunken and bloodshot, in sallow skin.

No wonder she looked at herself like that. She was disgusting.

Daisya took a deep breath, swallowed, and reminded himself to take a page from her book.

Then, he tried to think of anything that would force that train of thought off the tracks. God, life, Bodrum, boredom — yes, boredom. That was good. He always thought too much when he was bored, and there was nothing better than complaining about being bored.

"I gotta say, that was really easy."

Daisya stopped it the middle of the road for a moment, adjusting Lenalee's position on his back, then continued walking. He focused for a moment on the dim air around him. It was a brief stretch between coach routes, and it was her turn to sleep again. She'd had a few hours in the early morning, Daisya until mid-afternoon, and Kanda after that. Three people meant enough for one sleeping, one carrying, and one guarding.

"Talk to me, Kanda. Don't you think it was boring?"

Daisya jogged up alongside him. Kanda's long eyelashes fluttered once, twice in succession as he blinked. He was probably still waking up.

"I sure did."

Getting a conversation out of Kanda right now probably wasn't worth the risk, but Daisya was, you guessed it, bored out of his mind. Kanda was as good an antidote as any.

"Whatever," came the weary reply.

It was easy to miss, but Daisya had been watching Kanda long enough to know that this was an invitation.

"Well, there was only one akuma, and the finders had it blocked off."

The crunching of stones under boots coloured the silence between them.

"And Lenalee finished it off for us."

"Yeah."

"We barely had to do anything."

Kanda didn't reply, but the silence that answered was comfortable as opposed to cutting.

"I can't believe they actually thought my story was good. Did you _hear_ it?"

"Unfortunately."

"Kanda! That's rude."

"And?"

Daisya sighed dramatically, and would have thrown up his arms if he'd had them free.

"Why am I even friends with you."

The exchange of comments and quiet replies petered out after a couple of minutes, but Daisya didn't mind. Kanda had given him his relief, and they were all pretty tired — Lenalee had knocked herself out a while ago.

After another couple of minutes, Daisya's thoughts slithered half-heartedly into motion again.

The journey had taken a couple of days, and sleeping had been a bit rough, but…it was so easy. Just a fun little jaunt in the countryside, to fetch some Innocence and wreck a tapestry. No collapsing, no fires, no defenestration.

No excitement, and yet…

Kanda had been so happy, acting sullen all the time.

Lenalee seemed to cheer up anyone within a few metres of her.

The sun had sunk below the horizon, but the breeze from the sea was warm. Lenalee's breath was a regular pattern to match his own, and the scrape of Kanda's boots.

There was silence, but now he had no need to fill it.

The others just being there was enough.


	32. Chapter 32

**I'm just filling in random bits and pieces, which may or may not make sense or be coherent. Since I've sort of left the dgm fandom (too much drama, too much focus on characters I couldn't care less about, too many people not agreeing with my precise exact interpretation of every single character and having trivial little opinions of their own), I haven't had much motivation to continue, though I've actually written out a good deal more than I've posted. I'll be trying to update a bit more regularly, but I've said that before and then proceeded to not go through with it.**

 **Speaking of which, trying to write Kanda is really hard (he either turns into a stereotype or I just feel like I'm making him ooc) so please - feedback. Also I can't be bothered to harmonize the writing styles of the two sections so just bear with me for a chapter.**

Church, Daisya decided, was boring.

You take this book with people getting nailed to bits of wood, lakes of blood, a lot of fire, a city made out of gold, and this weird monster-lamb thing, and you make it about being nice to people. It was as if this preacher man hadn't read the damn thing before he started talking about it.

He squirmed in his seat, trying to keep himself from picking at his bandages.

The church wasn't that boring, though. The floors were good marble, the old man had said, and you could see your face in them. The surface was smooth and shiny, and made cool noises when you walked on them. _And_ it was alternating black and white squares, so you could even play checkers or chess if you wanted to.

Daisya wondered if there were any chess pieces big enough for this board. Maybe you could play with people? That would be fun.

The benches they sat on were polished, too, and carved up fancy on the ends. There were two arches carved into the sides of every pew, in the same shape as the windows that lined the walls. Around them, the walls put the benches to shame. They stretched so far up that Daisya had to crane his neck to see the top, where the arches met and twined. Nearly every inch of the church that wasn't part of a window was frothy, flowery-looking carved stone, punctuated by plaques, inscribed with the names of the dead. Daisya had read some of the names, a while back, but there were many more he hadn't had the chance to look at.

And the windows, oh, the _windows_ , they were red and blue and gold and purple, with hundreds of tiny pieces of glass crammed into each one. Corpses were mounded on the ground in some, and men and women hunched with yellow orbs — haloes, Marie said — around their heads, like weird hats. They were the important people. There was one in a dark, bloody red cape, and another one with a blue scarf, and so many more in so many colours. Now, and every morning, the sun shone through the pictures and stained the floor all different colours.

Daisya loved the church windows, and drank in every detail, making up stories for each of the scenes. The man with the thorn crown had made it out of a rose bush, twisting the branches together with bare hands so that he could feel the pain, and show everyone that he did. The lady in the blue scarf was a ghost, following the people who were going to die. True or not, he liked his stories. They made more sense than this drivel about believing.

But eventually he ran out, and had to find some other way to say awake.

Beside him, Marie was sitting up straight, paying attention. Either that or he was even better at sleeping upright than Daisya, which could be true. Marie was a kid of many talents. Beside him, the old man was nodding along, as if the preacher was making some kind of sense.

And on Daisya's other side, Kanda was sulking. Maybe Lenalee was out on a mission, so he supposed he didn't have anyone to play with or complain at in Chinese.

Daisya was 90% sure they (Kanda) smack talked him sometimes, so he was learning a bit. Not much. He was trying, at any rate.

"As it says in Kings…"

Daisya let his head loll sideways, half-balanced on his shoulder, and decided to fall asleep.

…

The sounds of boots echoed off the marble as the congregation stood up, and started to file out. First, General Sokalo, followed by a small group of meek-looking adults no older than 30. He wasn't too good with children. Then General Nine and hers, then General Yeager with Isaac. They sat at the front. As the finders started to move, Tiedoll turned to his charges.

"Kanda, could you wake Daisya up? He might get a sore neck, soon."

He looked down at Kanda, who had balanced a book on top of the head in his lap.

"When I'm done," the kid muttered.

"Oh? An interesting book?"

Kanda lifted it up to show him the lettering on the cover: _Jane Eyre_.

"I've got a good book rest."

"Very well."

Tiedoll had to repress a chuckle. Kanda was, after all, a kid. Stood to reason that he'd act like one.

…

When Daisya woke up, he half-expected to be staring at the bare stone wall of his room. The sense of warmth had made him forget for a second where he'd been, but the sight of the wooden pew jolted his memory.

In that case, whose jacket was this?

And, he thought, feeling fingers trace the seams where his bandages overlapped, whose hand was that?

He stirred for a moment, and the hand quickly jerked away.

Kanda's.

Daisya was still sleepy enough not to think much more.

"'s okay," he murmured, "Feels nice."

The tracing sensation returned, at first hesitantly, lulling him back to sleep.

…

"Oooowww!"

The undignified sound echoed up, and off the gothic arches above it. In an abandoned wing of headquarters, Daisya was hopping up and down on one foot. He was also muttering something unintelligible and in Turkish, having stubbed his toe going around the corner.

How he could stub his toe on a block of stone two feet long by one foot wide, he didn't really think about. Actually, as he zigzagged slowly on the path from the chapel to the old church, and back, he'd been pretty preoccupied.

The young-looking bigwig, the glass-maker guy or something, was here. He didn't really see why that was an issue, because the old man and the rest of the Generals dropped by a lot, and General Yeager even lived here, teaching Lenalee and Isaac mostly, and the rest of them too when he wasn't out on missions.

But good ol' Kanda had locked himself in his room and refused to come out, and Marie had spent a good eight hours in the chapel yesterday, poring over a travel guide hidden in a hollowed-out bible. Today it was Frankenstein. Lenalee hasn't even answered her door, so Daisya suspected she was bunking with Kanda. Whoever this guy was, he got the others worried.

Even Jeanne's usually-grinning face was looking pretty grim. She'd taken Isaac down to the training mats for an extended session, and Kiki was sticking close in Antonina's shadow. Together with Dris and Helle, they played a game of bridge in the piano loft. Daisya didn't know how to play bridge, and he was still aching from Kanda's training sessions, so he'd been reduced to wandering around. He'd never been in this wing before, so it was nice to explore.

Like in a church — like that cathedral he'd seen when they were on their way back from Tintown or whatever — his every footstep echoed on the flagstones as he paced lengths around the wing, each time starting and ending with Marie in the chapel.

When, with a final profanity, he finally stopped hopping, he noticed the difference in noises that accompanied this lap of the circuit..

This time, something else echoed. He'd almost missed it in the excitement of a minute or two ago.

His sister was a big crybaby, so he was a connoisseur in the different types of whining to get what you want.

This was none of them. If he had to choose a genre of noise, it wasn't the sucking, snot-covered hiccuping of the brat who didn't get a sweetie.

Actually, he knew this one pretty well. These were soft, hissing sobs of someone trying to not just hide but deny their crying. Figuring that if no one could hear them, then they weren't doing it, and somehow hoping that someone might notice and ask _why_ , if only to be told "no reason."

He decided not to think about how he knew all this, instead softening his footsteps, and veering over to the right side of the hall.

Somewhere in the dusty corners of these old halls that once held so many hopes and wishes, someone was wishing themselves out of existence. It would be a bit rude to barge in.

Still, he had to know.

If only for his own closure.

He peeked around the corner, looking down a hall to where a pair of old confession cells lay. The noise wasn't coming from there, and besides, it was too obvious a hiding spot.

Softly, he padded down about ten metres, looked inside, and walked past, turning left and following the passage as it curved around. The figures in the ornate friezes on wall seemed to be avoiding his gaze, looking down at the corpses of the martyrs or up at the light that must have been shining down. He could recognize a few, now that Marie had tried to teach him. Saint Cecilia, the musical one, and the usual holy family, but he hadn't memorized them like Marie had.

A few metres down, the passage curved again - right, left, down some stairs - and opened into a wide room that might once have been the sanctuary of an older Order. It was a bit like a cross between the main hall and the church, only with the feeling that he shouldn't be here. The carvings on the walls were chipped and eroded, not naturally, but as if the akuma had let loose a barrage on the space. In front of him, he could see a massive old organ, whose pipes were mostly piled up on the floor.

There was, on top of the almost inaudible sound of sobbing, the faint whistle of wind through a smashed stained-glass window.

Daisya stepped sideways into the pool of light cast on the floor by an opening in the opposite wall. Somehow, one of the akuma that must have been here had smashed the halo of the massive west window that stood opposite the organ. Now, the gold light of the sun shone through as it sunk lower in the sky.

Whoever it was that was crying, they were here. He knew it.

Before he closed his eyes, he noticed the almost satisfying smell of old rock dust, cool and clear.

Now the room was hidden to him. All that remained was the sound, penetrating the layers of stone. He wondered how he could have heard it out in the hallway, when it was hidden in layers of stone, like the central cell in an egg. It was here, yes, and very close.

He could feel the weak warmth of the sun on his back, and imagined the dust motes rising soft and gold behind him.

He turned around, into the sun that had blinded him, and stepped forwards.

The figure, hunched at the base of the wall beneath the window, holding its head in its hands and shaking, was Lenalee.

Partly because of the stark contrast between sunlight and shadow, light and dark, Daisya's eyes filled up to the brink.

Lenalee ignored him, instead taking in another strangled breath, for a sob that died on her lips. Almost as if she did not have the strength left to let it grow in the natural crescendo of such things.

It was only now he noticed that the dark splotches spreading out around her were darker red that her torn-up smock or the shadows surrounding them.

A thousand thoughts fought it out in Daisya's mind, working themselves into a maelstrom of _what the hell is happening_.

Kanda's fear, Lenalee's blood, the beggar girl at home they'd found washed up on the waterline, her skirt in tatters and her limbs at odd angles.

He'd heard that Lenalee had already tried to escape this place, by any means possible. Rejecting her Innocence, making use of a broken wine bottle and the Order's high windows. He hadn't understood why. He couldn't understand why. His Innocence was what had _stopped_ him from doing anything that stupid, no matter what Kanda said.

So what had made her like this? What more could happen to her?

Kanda's training. Being pretty. The men in the inn. The washed-up girl. His parents had tried to keep him away, but he'd snuck down to the clinic one night to see what they were hiding from him.

His breath stopped and started, and stopped again. Lenalee looked up at the sound.

They locked eyes.

Daisya thought that maybe, when Kanda's expression closed up over something he was forbidden to see, this was what lay underneath.

Infinite and infinitely painful, like the heavens, frozen and dotted with fire so hot it could shame hell itself.

He tore himself away.

Suddenly, the spell seemed to break. Slipping, falling out of the light, he ran over to her.

"…I'll go get your brother–"

" _No_."

Her premature answer — a statement of how things would be, not a request — cut him off. She'd stopped sobbing, but still shook, hugging her knees and twining her arms and fingers. He could see her muscles tensed, from her neck to her shoulders.

"No."

"What about Kan–"

"No."

She tilted her head sharply to the side, rocking back and forth, and starting to sob again.

The stains on her ankles confirmed that it was not mud but blood that darkened her dress.

"I don't — don't want anyone to…"

Her interruption fizzled out, and she scrubbed at her eyes sharply, like she was trying to erase whatever they had seen.

"Lenalee, tell me what to do."

Daisya spoke quietly, looking down. He knew what had happened. In her position, he would have — would have—

No. He didn't know what he would have done.

"Don't say anything. Don't tell a-anyone."

He nodded.

"Please don't tell my brother."

Daisya nodded again, then bowed, and made to get up. Lenalee wouldn't want anyone—

"And — d-don't go. Stay here."

This at last startled Daisya into looking up, where he met her gaze.

"If you want me to."

Her expression started to harden over as she nodded.

"Yes."

She had decided. Daisya crossed his legs in front of him, turning as as not to face her directly. Marie might get on his case if he missed dinner, but he wasn't going to leave here until he was allowed to.

For half an hour or so, he kept an ear out for intruders. Not many people came here but him, so it shouldn't be a problem, but you could never be too careful.

A bell tolled the quarter hour in another wing, making the Charity Bell echo it. He'd found it could pick up sounds sometimes, if he concentrated.

"Daisya?"

The timid voice pulled him back to the present.

"Yes?"

"Do you know any songs?"

"A few."

A lot.

"Could you sing one?"

"Of course."

She was starting to get a bit better, so he settled on a quick, melancholic melody the twins sometimes sang. He couldn't remember the words, but the music spoke for itself.

Hurt, sorrow, resignation — but laced through the tune — a driving anger.

Lenalee smiled. Not a genuine, vulnerable smile, like she'd given once or twice before now. This one was gentle, but it had nothing to with the emotions racking her body.

Daisya felt a perverse sort of pride. He grinned, Kanda had his scowl, and now Lenalee had found an expression that she could plaster over even the most unsettling situation.

Some sissy might say that they should never have to do that, but Daisya knew better.

 **What the hell was that? Beats me if I know. But Kanda, Marie, and Daisya have had their share of getting beat up in canon and otherwise, so I figured I might as well go for some variety. Since Lenalee's reaction to Leverrier when she's older is...reminiscent of a certain scenario, I imagine she's not fond of him for a variety of reasons. He seems to have no problem sending kids into battle, so why not teaching them a lesson.**

 **Also: verre = glass in French, so Daisya would probably think of Leverrier as the glass-maker, if he'd learned a bit of French. Which he probably would have, because French was the _lingua franca_ (aha ha it's an accidental pun) of the day.**


	33. Chapter 33

**Not much to say about this at the beginning of the chapter, but I want to thank karina001 and waterlit again for reviewing. I fully intend to continue writing/posting this, probably regardless of responses, and your feedback both positive and negative allows me to look back on my work and attempt to change it for the better.**

 **In other news, it's going to be an exciting next 13 weeks for DGM followers as we all get to watch the carnage of the Alma arc unfold in glorious technicolour. Poor, poor Kanda, frigid jerk that he sometimes is.**

Daisya's steel-toed boots rang out against the stone floors and echoed off the walls as he dashed through the dining hall, skidding to a halt beside the lunch table. He was holding his old beat-up leather football, so he'd probably come straight from a game with someone. Or just from kicking it up against the wall by himself, though Kanda didn't really see the point in that. Daisya, for his part, said that it was the only way he could play with someone good. Kanda did see the point in that.

"Hey, Kanda, the old man's back! Wanna see him?"

Daisya's raucous voice cut through, and Kanda didn't bother looking up at him. At the moment, he was leaning on his shoulder and trying to snatch a bite of his lunch.

"You can bother him on your own. He'll be sticking around for a while."

"Don't want to get gushed over again, my _son_?" Daisya teased, "I can understand."

He finally managed to get a bread roll away from Kanda, and took a bite. At least he was leaving the noodles alone now, Kanda thought. Truth be told, over time Kanda had gotten used to sharing meals between the two of them. Trying to keep Daisya away from food was a losing battle.

"You owe me something at dinner," Kanda said evenly, "I'll take the

"You're so demanding," Daisya muttered, taking a chunk out of the roll. Kanda didn't bother arguing, so he continued.

"Well," he announced, "I'm tired of playing football with you bunch of incompetents, so I'm going to ask the old man for a game. He's actually pretty good, you know."

He picked up a spare fork, and made a final attempt at the rest of Kanda's lunch before getting rapped on the knuckles.

"See ya."

Daisya ran off, and Kanda rolled his eyes.

Somehow, he'd gotten used to Daisya.

…

"So where'd you go? How was it?"

Daisya dribbled the ball back and forth, waiting as the old man geared up; well, actually, geared down. It wasn't too easy to play in all the coats and stuff he wore.

"So many questions!"

"Well, y'ain't been here in a while."

The old man looked like he was going to correct him, but had decided against it. "I don't have time for all of it now, but I did go to Morocco."

"That's in North Africa, right?"

"Yes, well done. And it was colonized by whom?"

"France, I think."

"Indeed. It has some quite beautiful architecture. Very intricate. I would have liked to stay, but my finder did insist on limiting my sketching."

Daisya raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "Really? That's _tragic_."

"Yes, I do think so," the old man replied meekly, playing along.

"So what was the mission? I bet there were loads of akuma."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. There were a dozen or two, nothing too much."

Daisya pouted, and tried to look imploring. He hadn't raced up the stairs two at a time just to hear about some fancy building the General had visited. He wasn't about to admit it, but the old man was good company sometimes. They'd spent about a year travelling together before coming to headquarters, after all, so he was pretty used to the guy.

" _But_ the Innocence was absolutely fascinating. It was embedded in the body of a dead professor did I mention we visited a university? Anyhow, the poor man kept trying to teach, even though what he was used to teaching was a century out of date."

Only Tiedoll would find that funny, Daisya thought. He rolled his eyes for effect, but it was the old man, so what else did he expect? The dude was so cool when he was fighting, but the rest of the time he was a pretty big nerd.

"Speaking of which, how are you doing with your schooling? I hope you're not disrupting class."

Parents. Old people. They were all the same.

"Nah, I'm fine. Get good marks and everything, _and_ I know where Morocco is."

"Hmm. General Yeager was saying that you don't show up to class too often."

Daisya bounced his football on his knee, then caught it on the side of his foot. Parents always nagged.

"Hey, it gets boring. It's way more fun to study on your own. And I do better than half the kids."

"There aren't too many to begin with."

Most of the time he was a nerd, but the old man could pull out a few tricks once in a while.

"Come _on_."

"All right, all right."

The old man straightened up, shoes laced.

"I do hope you've been practicing while I was away," he said, swiping the ball out of the air.

"You bet," Daisya replied, jumping up to try and retrieve it, "But it's hard to find anyone to play against, so I keep having to drag Kanda and Lena out."

"Is that so? Well, show me what you can do, and if you wouldn't mind, try not to aim at my face."

Daisya managed to snatch the ball away, and grinned.

"Gotcha."

…

The game wore on for far longer than it should have with only two players. When they finally quit, the old man led the game 7-4.

"Very good," he said absently, adjusting his glasses, "I'm glad you've kept practicing."

Daisya smiled back, red-faced with exertion. "Hey, I promised I would."

…

Daisya punched out with his left arm, twisting his knuckles as he did and keeping his wrist aligned. That had been the hard part, after the throws and the stances. A few months of work had allowed him to now start practicing as soon as he got down to the training centre, instead of spending half an hour standing still with Kanda yelling at him.

Not really yelling. Lately he'd been talking like a normal person.

He punched again in a cross with his right arm, concentrating on his wrist. A hook, then an uppercut, and the brief demonstration was done, though whether Kanda approved of it, he couldn't tell. They'd spent a lot of time together in this room, with its plain whitewashed walls and padded mats, so Daisya hazarded a guess.

"Was that good?" he asked tiredly. He'd been trying to get them right for weeks, and it was Kanda he had to impress, so his hopes weren't too high. At least it hadn't gotten boring yet.

His attention jerked back to he present when Kanda narrowed his eyes for a second. Internally, he sighed. _Yay_. Another week of practice.

"It was okay…"

Daisya grinned, feeling a weight lift up and off his chest. Maybe this time he'd get a break from all of Kanda's lectures about defending yourself, knowing how to fight a human, blah blah blah, et cetera. That seemed to be bothering him.

Maybe he found out about what the glassmaker guy did to Lenalee, Daisya mused, or maybe she'd told him.

Maybe it had already happened to Kanda.

"…but you need to practice more on your own time," Kanda muttered, avoiding Daisya's invitation to a high-five. "Don't get full of yourself."

Daisya didn't really care about that last bit. Coming from Kanda, those first words were high praise.

"Soooooo," he started, drawing out the word, "I'm not full of myself already?"

The loud sigh that escaped Kanda showed that he was playing along with the routine, but there was the hint of a smirk on his face.

"Well," Daisya added, "Even if you didn't mean it, you still said it."

"Say another word about that, and someone else will be teaching you kicks," came the reply.

Daisya theatrically put a hand to his chin, and knotted his eyebrows together as if in thought.

"Hmm. Getting taught by someone who won't whack you with a stick all the time? That would be absolutely terrible."

This time Kanda glared properly. He'd mastered at least ten different nuances of the usual stinkeye — annoyed at having his free time interrupted, angry because Daisya had just played a prank, annoyed because Lenalee and Marie weren't there, annoyed that he got outsmarted, pretending to be annoyed to get someone to go away, hiding a smile, trying not to look too tired in the morning, annoyed at getting woken up too early, angry that he'd had to save Daisya, angry because someone had moved too close to Lenalee, and one that he pulled a lot these days that Daisya hadn't quite been able to figure out but that was pretty much unique to him, and many sullenness in this look gave Daisya a twinge of guilt. There wasn't much sense in that, but there wasn't much sense in letting it continue.

"Sorry, sorry. But let's get on with it, if you're going to be teaching me."

Kanda tucked his bangs behind his ears, and swept his ponytail back. He like to fidget with his hair.

"Straighten up first, then. Your weight isn't balanced."

…

Daisya landed a hook on the punching bag in the yard, watching the dust puff up. It was nice in this little corner of dirt, out of the sun, with the bag and set-up they'd dragged out from the training room. He followed the hook with a kick, and seamlessly with another punch. He hadn't learned any particular strings of moves yet, but you could sort of make it flow for yourself if you tried.

He experimented with another flurry of movement, which didn't turn out as well, but no matter. This was actually pretty fun, after a while.

"You didn't twist your wrist on the last punch," said a voice to his left, quietly, "Do it again."

Dutifully, Daisya repeated the move, and added a sharp lift with his knee. That would be more useful if he ever had to fight an actual human, particularly a guy. As usual, Kanda seemed to be pretty enthusiastic about that part of it. By this point, Daisya had decided that something had happened to Kanda to make him feel like that, but who knew what it was? Was it like what happened to Lenalee?

Daisya shuddered at the thought. Strike that. There was a bigger question, here.

Who knew what had happened to make him who he was in the first place?

Wondering about Kanda's childhood didn't get you very far. It was a short track, and ended in a very big sign saying "DO NOT ENTER." He'd travelled with Tiedoll for one year, just like Daisya. He'd met Marie and Lenalee around the time that Daisya had met the old man. That was all Daisya knew, and probably all that he was going to know, but the shadows behind the gate were tempting.

He tried punching again, and noticed the dull pain as his skin wrinkled and stretched, straining where it hadn't quite healed. Damn. And he'd only taken his medicine an hour ago, which should have been okay.

It would take a lot of work to try and open that gate, and even more to bust it down.

Experimentally, he brought his shin up and around in a roundhouse kick. Geez. It was getting more and more annoying, but it did feel kinda good. The pain was like a big, irritating badge that said "not boring."

What else…maybe just a plain old strike? Yeah.

He dealt the blow, trying not to wince when the pain shot through his hand.

"That good enough?" he asked, giving the punching bag a final kick.

Putting one foot gingerly after the other, he turned to face his instructor. Kanda's expression was still pretty dull, but at least he wasn't frowning.

"I've seen worse," he said simply, "Mostly from you."

"I think I'll take that as a yes."

Daisya started to unwrap his fists. Wow, that hurt. The fabric had left imprints on his skin, and overlaid on top of the scars they made inhuman patterns. If he squinted, and turned his head a bit to the left, one almost looked like a fancy drawing of a dragon — just like with clouds. But not like with clouds. Clouds were nice and white and fluffy, but this was red and ugly as hell. Speaking of which, _ouch_.

He walked over to the walls of the little courtyard, grabbed the the satchel he'd thrown down beside Kanda, opened it, and rummaged around. After a few seconds, he fished out a glass bottle of water and another vial of painkillers, downing a couple.

"You take too many of those," Kanda muttered from his place.

Daisya slumped against the wall beside him, and let his breath slow down from its hectic pace. Somehow, it wasn't going down so quickly. Neither was his pulse.

"Hey," he protested, "it's not going to heal for a while. And you don't know how painful it gets when you forget to take your medicine."

The look was there again — the one that Daisya couldn't quite identify — and Daisya hastily backtracked. It used to be a source of amusement to watch Kanda go pale like that, but now it just seemed wrong.

"Well, actually," he drawled, trying to lighten the situation, "You probably do, and you've probably had worse, but let me complain for a few minutes, okay? I can't leave it _all_ for you."

Kanda didn't bother replying.

"And the medicine makes you feel good, anyway. I think it's got poppy seed extract in it, or something. It's healthy!"

He watched, and Kanda snorted irritably.

"You still take too many of those."

"Yeah, and why are you worrying about it in the first place?"

There was silence for a moment. Daisya thought about it, and decided to test Kanda's patience again. This time, he was still going to run as an escape instead of testing his new skills. Pretty soon he'd be able to fight Kanda off.

"Oh, well, take care."

He rocked sideways, planted a quick kiss on Kanda's cheek, and in one fluid motion launched himself forward in a sprint towards the door.

There wasn't enough time to look back at for theoretical fist aimed at his nose, but if he'd had the opportunity, he wouldn't have seen it.

Kanda couldn't be bothered to retaliate, but that didn't stop his expression from shifting.

 **Just a couple of notes: this time period is a month or two after the end of the first part of this story, give or take (I probably said something about it earlier but honestly I forget what the heck I've written in my own story), so Daisya's burns should be pretty much healed, but with the constant wear and tear he's had from training and actually fighting, they're probably a lot less healed or more messily healed than they should be. As to why he isn't dead and wasn't in a coma back then, Kanda and his blood are pretty useful to have around.**

 **Speaking of treatments, most painkillers in the 19th century seem to have been opiates, which are pretty darn addictive. The effect wears off, and the biological and psychological need for them grows stronger. Whether he's actually in pain or just misattributing this sensation is up to you, though it's probably a bit of both. Punching is hard on the knuckles.**

 **Lastly, Kanda has learned that threats and actual violence don't work on Daisya (unlike with Lavi). He has also learned that it's difficult to outrun Daisya when he has a head start, and so it's better to get revenge in other ways (read: sparring).**


	34. Chapter 34

**This is a bit of a detour, to try and see what various other personal problems might develop among those who lead the happy life of an exorcist. Not hugely relevant.**

 **Just to clarify: Antonina is Russian and about Marie's age; 'Dris and Helle are miscellaneous and the same age, Kiki and Jeanne are French, twins, and a couple of years older than Daisya; Isaac is from the Austrian Empire, the descendant of Sephardic refugees, and younger than Kanda and older than Lenalee. They aren't really that relevant - I just put them in for a bit of variety - so it doesn't really matter that much anyway. Antonina's dialogue is also a bit more stilted than the others', because she was fairly old when she got recruited, and hadn't had much of an education in English or French at that point.**

 **Speaking of which, the characters here probably speak English or French. Tiedoll is French, if I remember correctly, and French was the _lingua franca_ at the time, but headquarters is in England, so he might have just taught Kanda and Daisya English. I'm just writing this assuming English is the main language, because why not.**

Daisya stretched his arms up in the air, letting out a sigh. The lunch table was mostly empty, despite it being only a few minutes past noon. Even the adults' tables were pretty empty, with only a handful of exorcists and a dozen or so finders. They didn't really talk to the kids much, so they weren't much help, sitting on the opposite end of the hall. He figured some of them didn't like kids doing adult jobs, and doing them better, sticks-in-the-mud that a lot of grown-ups were. Or maybe they just felt weird treating kids like they could do stuff. Too much work, for grown-ups.

His parents always had the same problem, but the old man and Marie weren't too bad. Sure, Tiedoll cooed and got soppy, and Marie was barely a grown-up anyway, but sooner or later they didn't bother talking down to you. Well, Tiedoll did talk to you like you were a toddler, but he did that to Marie and the other grown-ups too.

Anyway, there weren't many people left who'd talk to him. Marie and the old man had been away for a while, off with the African branch. Marie's grandparents had lived out in the southeast, a while back. Good for them. But now there was nothing much to do but play solitaire, and stare at the ceiling. Sure, he could read or draw or practice singing or something, but without people it just wasn't _interesting_.

Funny. Back home, it was the people that were boring. Leading the same old lives in the same old shops, selling the same old toys to the same old tourists and sucking eggs at football. He'd beat all the kids a hundred times, and he could just about finish his siblings' complaints for them _because they never changed_. The different plants growing and dying, they were interesting enough. And the sea. And football was always fun, even when you were only playing against yourself.

But here, even if he didn't talk to anyone else, just Kanda would give him a good few years of different reactions and little secrets. He was already this fast-healing super strong kid who hunted demons in his spare time. That was _sick_. Marie used even boring, slow old music like a weapon, and Lenalee had the coolest shoes he'd ever seen. Even after a year with the old man, he still hadn't learned anything about him. Lots about music, though. Reading, writing, and he'd already had a good grasp on 'rithmetic and languages.

So, he had plenty of stuff he could do, but it was nothing compared to the people.

"Say, Lenalee…" he started, just to break the silence.

"Yes?"

"D'you know where Antonina and everyone else went? There's no one here anymore," he moaned, putting his head in his hands, "It's so boring."

Lenalee looked up from her book.

"She's gone to Murmansk with Helle, I think. And my brother just told me this morning that Isaac and 'Dris got a mission in Sarajevo, so they were off before sunrise."

Daisya closed his eyes momentarily, as if reading something off of his eyelids.

"Murmansk," he muttered, "That's pretty far up north, innit?"

"It's in Russia," volunteered Lenalee, "I don't know how north it is."

"Eh, that's north enough," Daisya concluded, "I gotta say, I'm happy it's those two going instead of me."

"You don't like the cold? But didn't you like snow?"

Lenalee folded her arms on the table, and tilted her head sideways. She tended to do that when she was confused, though Daisya wasn't sure if it was on purpose or not. While she did seem to be a bit less innocent than you'd think, she looked pretty wide-eyed with those pigtails. After what he'd seen…well, he couldn't really blame her for getting angry. Even if she did get a bit heated about the Order.

He remembered when he'd been her age, and he didn't want to.

"Oh, yeah, I like snow, but I'm just not used to the cold. We didn't ever have a _real_ winter back home. Didn't even get snow," Daisya complained, "I haven't had a full-on winter yet, but I don't think I'd last too long. You? You seem pretty used to stuff around here."

Looking for something to pass the time, Daisya scanned the lunch tray, picked up a knife, and started to carve something into an apple.

"We're mostly used to winter, here. My brother says it was pretty warm back home, but I can't really remember anything before I came to the Order. I think Antonina's from White Russia or somewhere, and Helle's from Norway, so they should be fine."

"That make sense," mused Daisya, trying to move the knife in a clean circle, "Aaargh, I just wish the spinny lady didn't send everyone away at the same time. It's so _boring_ when no one's around."

"Well, there's me. And Kanda. You don't really talk to the others, don't you?"

Lenalee had tilted her head again, so Daisya shrugged.

"Hey, I talk to Isaac and Jeanne, even if they don't make sense half the time. It's just that I can hear them all when they're telling stories. It's a lot less boring than just sitting and doing nothing when you guys and Marie are away."

Lenalee paused, then nodded.

"But you should at least try talking with the others. They're really nice, once you get to know them."

Daisya grinned wryly, and raised a finger.

"Maybe, but for one, it's hard not to be nice to you. And secondly," he added, raising another finger, "You said Kanda was nice, so I think I'll steer clear for now."

"He just doesn't like to be bothered, that's all."

How in God's name this tiny little girl managed to get Kanda to soften up, Daisya didn't know, but he didn't want to find out. There was definitely some sort of black magic going on with that.

"Yeah, I can tell. Even old Marie's more social than him."

"Marie's really nice, too. My brother says he's just a bit shy."

"You can say that again," Daisya added in a low voice, quickly looking over his shoulder to make sure it was just the two of them in earshot, "Don't tell him I said that. I sorta owe him for accidentally knocking him out once. He's really nice, I agree."

"Don't say it if you don't want him to hear it," reprimanded Lenalee, "He taught me how to play the flute a bit."

"Did he? I guess he really likes his music."

"Yes, he does. He can't see, so music is probably like paintings to him. Or sunrises."

Daisya nodded, and pictured both, then imagined the feeling without being able to see.

"Maybe."

He tried to picture something that stuck in the memory a bit more. Explosions over the harbour. Flames in the inn. Kanda's glare in the half-light of the forest. Marie in a spider's web of silver strings. Lenalee blazing green.

"Yeah, that makes sense."

…

A lively mazurka faded out, the last strains of it flying above the arched corridors of the main hall. Following that, there was the faint scraping of a bench on wood floors, and the closing of a heavy door.

"Okay, that's seven no trump," Daisya figured, "So, two hundred and twenty points. Negative one hundred and forty plus two hundre–"

"It's sixty."

"Okay, sixty points."

Daisya scribbled down the number, and turned back to face Marie.

"Lenalee's turn to deal, I think."

Kanda had already passed the cards over.

"Can I leave now?" he asked sullenly.

"Only if you want to," replied Marie, almost teasing.

"Oh, I want to. Lenalee?"

"My brother wants me to help with some paperwork."

The two stood, Kanda striding off towards the dojo and Lenalee scurrying towards the staircase. Everyone knew that "paperwork" was code for "tea party," and had all agreed that Lenalee was too cute to stop.

A few seconds later, there was a brief flurry of sound when Lenalee nearly collided with another exorcist on their way down. Apologies were exchanged, and the other girl headed towards the players.

"Antonina?" called Marie, who seemed to perk up at the sound of heavy footsteps, "Would you like to join?"

"Of course."

The tall, rough-looking girl strode over to the group, and sat down beside Marie.

Marie dealt cards in a square, with a group three at its centre, after which all players picked up, ordered, and considered. The process repeated itself over and over again in the dining hall, with the players switching out, games ending, high fives being alternately exchanged and ignored. Sometimes it was Jeanne and Kiki against Isaac and Idris, sometimes Helle and Antonina against Lenalee and Daisya, but mostly it was any combination of the exorcists not on missions who knew how to play. Finders and grown-ups didn't normally join in, and played a more complicated game in their own corner of the dining hall.

This new game, for its part, featured Marie and Daisya against Antonina and Kiki. An interesting combination - Daisya was new and unpredictable, and seemed to like huge losses or wins over careful games. Marie was the opposite, and normally ended up with a slim victory on a low bid. Antonina, for her part, never paid much attention, and played aggressively when she had a good hand. Kiki was the most challenging opponent. Her silence ensured she was difficult to read, but her quiet observance of everyone in the Order, not to mention a couple of years of trying to deal with Antonina's moods, had ended up with her being able to read you like a book. She played differently depending on the set-up, rather than choosing a style.

Really, why she followed Antonina around like a lost puppy, Daisya had no idea. Maybe she was just a glutton for punishment, or maybe she took pity on the girl. He imagined Antonina could give some pretty good lessons on bareknuckle boxing, from what he'd seen down in training, so there was always that. Or maybe…

He reluctantly tore his mind from whatever wonderland it had wandered off to, and stared at his own cards, biting a lip as he watched Antonina rearrange hers across from him. It was always a bit weird, watching her play. Her hair was at least four, four and a half feet long on a good day, coarse and knotted, and trailed over her shoulders and on to the table. But that was all fine. It was when it started moving and writhing on its own that Daisya's skin crawled.

Antonina's Innocence was a parasite-type, which was all fine and well, but she always kept it partially activated, too. He didn't know how she could do it. She loved to play piano, which might have been why she used it so much, because it gave her the ability to play tougher pieces, probably. From what Marie had said, she also liked to play duets by herself, with the snake-like strands of her active Innocence acting as the _secondo_. The strains of music that flowed out over the cafeteria were hers, Daisya would find out.

And now her Innocence plucked cards out from her hand and placed them back, presumably ordering them by suit. Beside Daisya, the ash-blonde Kiki ordered here by a more conventional method.

"Pass. I must say, there have been a lot of akuma in Russia recently," she commented with a light French accent, "Even Jeanne got paired up with some adults to go up there."

"Six hearts."

Daisya didn't have much else to contribute to the conversation. For all that she was a year or two older than him, Kiki seemed like she was born at age 35. Across from him, though she was staring intently at her cards, Antonina's hair lazily curled itself into a bun. A few of the strands braided themselves, tying the whole thing together, then deactivated. He had to admit, the scars where his hair used to be were not pretty, but _ew_.

"There is a lot of death, up there. I should not be surprised. Six no trump."

"Indeed," Marie said thoughtfully, "There's the cold, and the police beside that. Pass."

Antonina shrugged, and collected the cards in the centre.

"You are not wrong. I apologize, but you have also been given many missions. I have not heard you play quite so frequently."

"Akuma activity has increased. It hasn't been regular for the last while, oddly."

"You should keep playing, regardless. Your Innocence is a gift. It is music."

A strand of Antonina's hair curled around, then laid down an ace of diamonds, and her accent thickened for a moment. From what he'd overheard Kiki saying to Lenalee, this happened when her control was loosening a bit.

"Both of you should," said Kiki diplomatically, "It's been a while since I heard your music too, Antonina."

She didn't once take her eyes off her cards, narrowing them slightly as she switched the position of two of them.

Kiki, the fine-featured French girl, had heard a lot of things. Daisya was pretty sure she could understand why Antonina's hair had uncurled and started writhing. She understood a lot of things, probably. If you sat by her for too long, you found yourself talking, and she would talk back, but her words wouldn't say much. He sometimes wondered if she had other powers besides being an Innocence accommodator. She was interesting, too, but harder to get at than Kanda. He was just angry. Kiki wasn't anything.

" _No_ ," a voice said bitterly, interrupting Daisya's thoughts, "It is not music. We can only try and make it. This Innocence does not create it."

Antonina held her cards using one arm, her Innocence curling down the other. Over the mangled stump of a wrist, it formed the outline of fingers.

"It cannot use the music as it should be played," she muttered, as if unaware that they could hear, "We are nothing that is music."

 **If you're wondering if this is going anywhere - not really. I just wanted to sketch out some of the people that Daisya, Kanda, Lenalee, and Marie might have known. Exorcists seem to die pretty quickly, if the manga is anything to go by, so all of them are probably dead by the time the series starts. Child safety doesn't seem to be on the Order's priority list, after all.**


	35. Chapter 35

**I forgot to respond in the last chapter (even though we're not supposed to respond in the chapter I'm just so used to it that I can never remember to stop), but thanks to all for commenting! The relationship between Daisya and Kanda was really hard to figure out, because Kanda swings wildly between pricklier than a cactus, possibly approaching normal, and slightly chilly but respectful. And Daisya, for his part, goes from a cold, pessimistic, narcissist as a child to a cackling, energetic teenager. Trying to write each one IC is something even I don't think I've quite succeeded at, and trying to trace from the initial antagonism you'd expect between them to the obvious friendship in the anime is doubly impossible, so thanks!**

 **Again, this little detour is not very good, but I'll be updating more often, so you won't have to deal with this for as long.**

After a couple of days of searching by himself — Kanda just scoffed, and asked him why he'd want to do that, and Lenalee had politely declined — Daisya found the piano, in an antechamber high up in the Order. Getting it up there would have been a pain, he had to say. The doorway was narrow, and short, opening into a room no more than five, six metres square of white-painted stone walls, patched with plaster. Below his feet, the floor that he now stood on was made of scuffed wooden planks, in need of a bit of repair and a bit of glue. As he walked, he could feel them shift on uneven supports. A small window let in the light of the dining hall, now shining off the honey-brown wood, and let the music out.

The music that was still playing. Antonina was sitting there, on a bench that still rocked back and forth despite the cardboard folded under one leg. Whether or not she'd noticed him, Daisya couldn't tell, but he doubted she cared. Her fingers moved quickly as she hunched over the yellowing keys, spitting out — with one hand of flesh and blood and one of keratin and Innocence —a litany of bitterness as recorded on the sheets in Cyrillic writing. Daisya was a good hand with languages, but he'd never learned much of Russian, or how to write it. It said something about a Paxman…something, but he didn't feel like the song was talking about a guy who went around making peace.

Stops and starts and slow-downs in the music seemed to signal that this was a hard part, so Daisya tried to be quiet. He was pretty sure that interrupting now would be a bad idea. Better to wait. He hadn't spent days in the dusty hallways and crammed himself in dumbwaiters just to leave now, did he?

Antonina finally stopped after a storm of triplets, and a couple of chords that nearly shook the roof down, and definitely shook the dust off a few of the rafters. Slowly, she turned to face him. As usual, it wasn't a pretty sight, but Daisya felt like he was one to talk. Pot, kettle, black.

"What do you want?" she asked sullenly, "It's bad form to interrupt a pianist."

Daisya stayed silent for a moment longer, until he heard the last few vibrations die away.

"Nothing," he said, "I just wanted to find it."

"Well, you've found it," Antonina answered curtly, "Now go away, unless you have something to play. Though I doubt you can even read music. No one here seems to like it."

She started to play a medley of chords that Marie would have been able to identify as wandering between C minor and A flat major, staring blankly at a point Daisya would say was about four inches above the right-hand sheet of music on the piano.

"I'm not great at it, but I can read music. I just can't play it, is all."

Antonina finished off on a perfect cadence.

"What? Who taught you?"

"The old man. Tiedoll. He taught Kanda too, I think, but he can't dance or even tap his foot to a beat, or anything. Mainly I just annoyed the old guy until he gave me something interesting to do — what's so funny?"

Antonina's grin was wide, and almost feral.

"You tried to get Kanda to dance? That's pathetic."

"Yeah, yeah," Daisya sighed, starting to feel more comfortable. Insults were a walk in the park. "He was pathetic, I've got to say."

"No, I mean that _you_ are pathetic."

"Kanda'd definitely say so. But anyway, I can't play music."

Daisya shrugged, lifting upturned hands for emphasis. Antonina seemed to see him like some curiosity, the way her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Hmm," she said, dragging out the sound theatrically, "But you _can_ dance, you say?"

"Sorta. There was nothing much to do at home, and there were some musicians that liked to play jigs and stuff. And we danced at the festivals."

Antonina smiled again, this time softly.

"All right, I can work with this. A dance, yes, I think…"

She launched into a jumping song that conjured up a piano with cracked keys, sitting on wooden slats in an inn full of life and heat against the freezing windowpanes. Funny, how mid-morning seemed to become night. The music filtered into your brain, and brought out all the scenes you remembered from back home or that book you liked once.

Maybe Antonina liked it because of that.

Speaking of memories, they were coming fast back to Daisya. Just after his tenth birthday, the fair they held at the solstice. His brothers fought over who got to give wildflowers to the girl next door and who had to give them to his sister. There was a dancing competition. There weren't any prizes, but he'd gone in anyway. He was the best. He knew it. All the other ones were just tripping over their own feet, but all the football practice had paid off. He hadn't won. None of them liked him. His father'd had to come looking for him for dinner. He'd spent the day up on the cliffs, wandering around. It was better than listening to the same old boring songs and speeches.

He was better than them.

Right foot, left foot, jump, turn around, arm up, take the imaginary girl's hand, start again. Kanda had seemed embarrassed back in…where was it…somewhere in Austria. Anyhow, Daisya couldn't understand why. It was just stepping around, hopping up and down. Kanda wasn't an idiot; he should have been able to do it.

As the music continued, he couldn't help but follow some of the more complicated, well-trodden steps the older kids had taught him; before he got far, the music started to ramble, and change keys.

C sharp minor, A major, B major, F sharp minor, G sharp minor. He couldn't name them, but the spring left his step.

Antonina seemed to have forgotten him standing there.

"Sounds beautiful," he commented.

The pianist laughed throatily. "It always does. It compensates for me."

Daisya felt he should probably say something encouraging. It worked on his sister and brothers, at least.

"But you're—"

"Don't lie."

Antonina's voice fell from her throat like a snake, heavy and writhing down into the lowest register Daisya had heard from a girl.

Too late, he remembered why he'd never tried going up to her before. You never could quite tell what Antonina was going to do next.

"You know what we are," she continued simply, starting to grin, "Tell me, would any boy fall for a woman like me?"

The air that had been easy to breathe a moment ago was suddenly full of dust and debris, ready to coat your throat in plaster. Daisya took the moment of shock to look at her. Sallow skin, sunken eyes, wide mouth, crooked teeth. Thick knuckles on the one hand she had. A rough, discoloured patch of skin where the other hand once was, and a mass of tangled, matted coarse hair that was already shading from brown into grey. But, you know what they say: beauty is on the inside.

Trying to remember her actions, reactions, likes, dislikes, he formed a mental picture of her. Bitter and resentful, obsessing over her music and her own mutilation, loud and careless. She shifted from laughing to sullen in a matter of seconds, and back again, and like now, handed out insults as she wallowed in self-pity, trying to draw out words that she could twist to her own use.

"Probably not."

"Exactly. It's difficult to find some love, like this. You know you would have a hard time finding a girl to like you."

"Hey—"

Suddenly, she reached forwards and wrapped her fingers around Daisya's wrist, pulling him towards her. He froze up — could smell the rankness on her breath, and see the red veins standing out in the yellowing whites of her eyes. The claw-like fingers curled tighter, and a rope of filthy hair bound his other wrist.

"Some advice I have for you: _give up_."

Her own Innocence curled around her neck. She looked like a fairy-tale witch, but suddenly Daisya didn't find them so cool any more; instead, it was terrifying.

"Look at you," she spat, "You're hideous. Underneath those bandages that you like so much, you look like some diseased carcass brought back to life."

The ice was spreading through his body. Hadn't he heard that one of the others had killed someone? Someone's dog? Something real, not an akuma. The tattoo his heart was beating against the inside of his ribs made him sure that _this girl_ had choked the life out of a living thing.

Half her teeth were missing, he could see. White tendrils of scar tissue reached down from her temple, meeting up with the ghost of a slash that had just barely missed her eye.

"But still you have a _chance_ ," she continued zealously, "People don't love people like us, you understand?"

 _You understand? You understand?_

Daisya didn't, not really, not as he stared blankly at Antonina. Mom had still worried about him, no matter what, and Dad still chased after him. He'd had more than he'd wanted.

In time, he'd learn that he should have. Sun, moon, distance, burning. He knew. He just didn't understand, not yet.

"I will tell you," Antonina stated, setting down the words in stone, "You will never find happiness. Accept it. You will learn to live."

At last, his chest loosened just enough for him to speak. Even like this, sarcasm was just too tempting to pass by.

"T-that so?"

He could just about see the whites of his eyes reflected in hers. This lady was intense.

"Yes," whispered Antonina, "Then you will survive. Because you will not be me."

She let go, fingers and Innocence uncurling, and Daisya stumbled backwards. He caught himself, but still moved away as if from a fire, trying to rub life back into his wrists.

"Please live."

Silently, she turned away. The only sound that remained was the faint chatter filtering through the halls, and the creaking of floorboards as Daisya hurriedly backed off. The room that had seemed so small and claustrophobic was again illuminated by a watery light, second-hand from the dining hall windows.

Things seemed to _shift_ once he was out of reach. He couldn't say why; it was just the same as the difference between activated and unactivated Innocence. The feeling of fear, of desperation just seemed to dry up.

And funnily enough, it was only once Daisya had stepped away that he could see how she was hunched over, shoulders trembling. He might have said that she was crying, but her expression didn't change, or collapse into a grimace. It was just the same as ever, dull and melancholy, as a few tears spilt over the edge of her eyelids. Still the same blank, dark eyes.

"How about another song?" she asked quietly, turning back to the piano as if nothing had happened, "A jig would rather suit you better than a waltz. I do like them…"

A jaunty melody punctuated her speech. It sprang up, turned on a key, and ended with a nice low hop.

"This?"

Another, slower one drifted through the air.

"Or this?"

Somehow, the fear had drained out of Daisya. She was just like his sister — throwing a tantrum.

"The first one. It's more fun."

"Good choice, good choice," Antonina answered, red-rimmed eyes now crinkling in a smile. "Run along, boy."

Time to go. He knew his sister. The aftershocks from her crying fits could go on for days.

"Thanks!"

He yelled it out over his shoulder, and ran down the stairs.

…

Eight days later, Lenalee had locked herself in her room. Isaac and Jeanne murmured quietly in contrast to their usual loud chatter. Kiki didn't speak at all. Dris and Helle talked more than ever. Marie had gone to the chapel early in the morning, Kanda said, and hadn't come out until lunch. As for Antonina, Daisya hadn't seen or heard her for two days.

When Daisya asked Kanda, he muttered something about a mission in White Russia. When he asked Marie, he got a nice long story about a transfer to the Asian Branch.

Music still cascaded down over the dining hall on occasion, but it was the soft hum of the strings, and not the bright sound of the piano.

…

In the dining hall, there was a corner near the kitchen. Each day, there was a bit of sunlight that shone there. The heat from the kitchen fires meant that it was always warm, and dirt and food scraps had built up there, turning the plaster into a garden for one small weed. It didn't follow the normal pattern of the year, with the odd heat, so even in November Daisya found a few trodden-on yellow flowers growing there. They'd do, for now.

He gathered a few, and picked a couple of the serrated leaves while he was at it. Unlike the flowers, they looked cool.

It was ten days after he'd found the music room, but he was still able to navigate his way to it. It was on a little level between floors, and you had to use the utility stairs to get to it; that or the dumbwaiter. There were a few servants' rooms on the same floor, but not much else.

The door was unlocked — Marie probably left it like that — so he sneaked in, trying not to make much noise. You didn't interrupt a pianist.

Inside, it looked the same as it had. The bench was just off to the side a bit, and a thin layer of dust had settled on the keys. When he reached the piano, Daisya took a moment to think.

Then placed the small bundle of thin-petaled flowers on the keys.

It wasn't much, but it was something. Daisya figured that he owed that much. After all, if no one respected someone while they were alive, then it was due to the dead.

It's what he'd want if he kicked the bucket. They wouldn't know how great he'd been 'til he was gone.

 **Explanation: Antonina became a Fallen One. Like Lenalee, she grew to hate her Innocence so much that her synch rates fell. I wanted to take a look at an exorcist who didn't have any goals in life - Lenalee lives for her brother and her friends, Kanda lived to find Alma and now lives to try and atone for his sins, Daisya lives to have fun, and Marie lives because he's reached a peace with himself and has decided never again to give up. Antonina, on the other hand, doesn't like being an exorcist, and doesn't care enough to want to fulfill the duty of an exorcist. Her Innocence has cost her a hand and a home, and the ability to play as she used to. I find it quite amazing that more exorcists don't Fall, because frankly it's a pretty sucky job. Adding to her list of just general problems is her lack of balance and her belief that she will never be able to form any good relationships because she's pretty hideous, and difficult to get along with, but it's her resentment of the Innocence for all the troubles it's caused her that led to her eventual demise. Not a Good Time, and with the fate of an exorcist generally being death at a young age, not likely to get much better.**

 **This soooo did not write itself as I'd storyboarded it in my head and I'm unsatisfied with it but it ends up having a tiny bit of thematic significance later, so I just have to put it out here and hope no one notices the bad pacing. Anyhow, back to regular programming hopefully within the next week.**


	36. Chapter 36

**me: says I'm going to update more often**

 **also me: vanishes from the face of the earth for three weeks**

 **But aaaah you guys thanks so much for the comments and compliments! You're getting me far too used to them. I also don't really love** **OCs, so there won't really be much more of them, but I needed Antonina as an example to refer to later in the story, so I'm so glad it wasn't too much of an unpleasant detour.**

 **Anyhow, this is just another filler chapter to try and explore more of our two main characters' personalities, because I can't get a grip on Kanda to save my life and it's a constant struggle for me to keep Daisya in the sweet spot between 'entirely 100% canon traits and no more' and 'not canon at all but reasonable extrapolation from canon evidence'. For now I'm just going with what would happen if he'd been overjoyed by finding such a non-boring life after a tedious childhood, but also retained the more self-absorbed/lonely traits that he had when he was a narcissistic jerk of a child. Thank you all for reading, whether you comment or not, and have a wonderful rest of summer!**

Kanda almost lazily folded Daisya's wrist over on itself, and pushed until he heard the slap on the padded mat. It echoed around the empty dojo.

Hmm. Daisya had lasted pretty long that time. Maybe he was getting better.

"That was pathetic," he declared, stepping back, "Do it again."

"Aw, come on!"

Daisya pulled himself back up into a defensive stance, interlacing his fingers and pushing them out before bringing his hands back into position.

"That screwed up my wrist a bit, I think."

Or maybe not.

"Should've given up earlier," Kanda shot back.

They settled back into a comfortable rhythm, shifting their weight from one foot to another, setting up to move as soon as the other attacked. Hand-to-hand combat was harder than it looked, and over in a few seconds. Daisya needed to learn that there weren't going to be any second chances in a real fight.

"Maybe, but it didn't hurt too much earlier, actually. Were you going easy that time, or what?"

" _You_ were the one going easy. Just shut up, and actually try this time."

"You sure you want me to?"

…

Kanda seemed to have decided that Daisya was ready to demonstrate some of his hard-won skills, but so far each match had ended with Kanda's fingers on a pressure point and Daisya at his mercy. Bo-ring.

Daisya didn't really see the point in martial arts. If you were going to be in a real fight, it was stupid to take ten seconds to get into a good stance, and follow all the rules. Why did Kanda like 'em so much? Even Lenalee was more exciting, because she never bothered with rules about what you can use to hit what. She'd tried to bite him, in one match. All that soft-voiced sweetness was a big fat red herring to distract you from the vicious little brat in the dojo every morning. Why couldn't Kanda manage that level of interesting this time? Normally he was a pretty safe bet when Daisya was bored.

Well, Daisya thought, aching in a dozen places, he was going to show Kanda that the rules were _made_ to be broken.

…

Daisya was playing too much by the books, thought Kanda. He was trying to fight like someone who actually knew what he was doing, and it made Kanda angry. He'd be useless the moment some guy with a problem walked up to him. No one liked exorcists, not even other exorcists. They had too much to answer for.

Kanda let himself take a few deep breaths. Somehow, the healing that had kept him alive at the Asian Branch kept him from needing as much air. It was only after a while that he started to tire.

No one else was in the dojo as he and Daisya watched each other, ready to latch on to any hint of movement in the other. For a while, he'd been looking for an unconventional opponent, after he and Lenalee and Marie had gotten used to each other, but this one was just the same. And yet here they were.

It wasn't like there was anything better to do. Daisya at least shut up when you fought him.

Kanda spoke.

…

"Go."

Daisya punched out with his left hand, and stepped forward fluidly with his right foot to bring up his left knee, timing it so that his second attack hit as Kanda blocked his first.

But, as always, Kanda had anticipated it, kicking out his left foot to knock Daisya off balance. He attempted to double the damage with a right hook, but Daisya had already planted his foot and shifted his stance, so that he was able to spin sideways, aiming an elbow at Kanda's ribs.

Kanda kicked out again, but Daisya was quicker this time, and spun around to aim a fist at the base of Kanda's skull as he lunged forward.

From there it went into a brawl. What Daisya lacked in strength, he made up for in sheer creativity of technique. Most of it consisted of trying to run around the opponent instead of facing off, and using the arsenal of knees, elbows, occasionally heads instead of the more traditional fists and feet. Instead of waiting to execute a textbook move, he lashed out at every opportunity, not bothering to distinguish between feints and accidents. He grabbed at Kanda's hair, and tried to pull him down when he was thrown to the ground. It was thoughtless, blind, and animal, but somehow his instincts were as good as Kanda's. It wasn't good, it wasn't elegant, it wasn't skilled, but it was something new.

…

Now, this was something _new_. Kanda took every blow hungrily, and countered them at lightning speed. Daisya was focusing on speed as opposed to brutality. Hah, he'd have thought as much. He was going easy before. He was going to pay for that.

…

At long last, Kanda threw Daisya down, and caught his breath.

"Your strikes are weak."

"Yeah, yeah," Daisya panted, "Could ya let me up, now?"

Kanda removed the foot from his back, and pulled him to his feet.

"You were going easy on me before, idiot."

"Hey, you gotta admit that was pretty smart, 'cause that meant you wouldn't be going full strength on me."

"It was still stupid, because you were annoying me."

Daisya laughed, and raised his arms disarmingly. "I don't think I can avoid annoying you, ya know?"

Kanda shrugged, taking out his ponytail to retie it, if it could even be called that after the fight.

"Hell if I know. I'm not going to be wasting much more time on you."

The Faces of the Kanda wasn't a book Daisya was ready to write, but he was fairly sure that he'd seen Kanda smirking a moment or so ago, which was probably a good sign. A grin appeared on Daisya's face, accenting the flush of exertion.

"Yeah!"

Daisya pulled a celebratory fist down through the air, and Kanda rolled his eyes.

"That doesn't mean you're good at it."

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

Drunk on opiates and adrenaline, Daisya threw his arms around Kanda's neck in a hug.

"But I still did it!"

Kanda tried to kick his feet out from under him, but Daisya sidestepped.

"See? Am I right?"

Daisya's intoxicated smile was at odds with the marks on his face.

Kanda had no choice but to scowl.

"Tch."

…

The night is another country. Its people are all very nice, very much like us, nothing against them at all, but they just aren't _quite_ normal. Something takes hold of them that makes them behave very differently from what is good and proper. Not that there's anything wrong with that; so long as they're not doing anyone any harm, that's what I say.

…

Yuu — Kanda — walked hesitantly, like a deer about to bolt. It had been a long time, in his short life, since he had seen this place.

Not long enough.

The hallway stretched on, and he could name everyone's rooms. Edgar, Twi, himself and—

The blue half-light of evening was the only thing illuminating this part of the Asian Branch, stretching on into infinity. It had only been a year or so, but already it seemed like forever. He didn't have years of childhood to remember and dream about, like Marie and Lenalee, or to complain about, like Daisya. Yuu, or Kanda, or whoever he'd been in that time before, didn't have much to his name. A field, sunlight, darkness, and a sense of _someone_ were all he had left from one life.

In this life, what he had to fall back on was the Asian Branch. He wasn't sure if it was something to hold close or something to throw to the ground and burn, here and now.

Chipped flagstones. Doors upon doors. The same vaulting hallways and high, arched windows as the European Branch, but so, so different.

Alma was here.

Without seeing it, Yuu knew it. He might not have been sure of his own name, but the self that existed here was certain. Behind him, closing in, was a laughing, crying child with one grotesque wing.

No no no no nonono _nonono_

His feet stood heavy, still on the cold stones. The light, just enough to make shadows move in the corner of his eye, seemed sticky and stagnant, clinging to his skin.

Now, floating above his body, he saw Alma limping towards him, footsteps black with _blood_ —

Marie.

Somewhere here, Marie was hurt. He'd save Marie. He'd save them both. He could still get out. He had to. He had to go get Marie.

He could barely see, in the darkness, could barely hear, couldn't feel anything except the knowledge that Alma was there and coming closer.

Run run run run run _run_

Alma walked slowly towards him, even as he tried to force his leaden legs to move. This body belonged to one Yuu Kanda — the one in the dream, who would not obey the one watching.

"Hey, Yuu!"

The words, crackling at the edges, broke the silence, slipping like ice down the back of Kanda's neck.

Finally, he managed to take a step. Here, he decided, he was Kanda. Tiedoll's apprentice, alongside Marie and now Daisya. Just one foot in front of the other, just that was what he needed. He needed to run.

Now.

He didn't know what would happen if Alma caught up. He'd always woken up before then.

But somehow the air turned to treacle, and trapped him, moving far too slowly to ever escape, or find Marie.

The air in his lungs was starting to freeze up; his muscles were burning, but he couldn't go anywhere. He couldn't move, not really, and he couldn't see Alma. He just knew that he was right behind him, meandering and still catching up.

 _Not again_

"Come on, Yuu!"

 _No_

He could feel Alma's breath on the back of his neck, and his own hurried, arrhythmic pulse.

 _Marie—help_ — _help me_

"Yuu, I'll be so _bored_ without you."

Kanda whipped backwards, and stared into a smiling face, with two marks curving down its cheeks.

…

Kanda's feet landed softly on the stones. Even in the pitch dark, he could find his way. The iron railing was ice cold against his clammy hands.

The circle staircase was an old familiar friend, one that he'd visited at night when only the crickets were awake. He ran up the stairs, breath shallow, and past the doors. Lenalee. Isaac. Daisya. Jeanne. Kiki. 'Dris. Helle. No one, not anymore. Marie.

It was a wonder he got any sleep at all, with his hearing.

Kanda came to a halt, planting bare feet firmly on the stone. His right hand made a fist around two corners of the sheet he'd pulled around his shoulders as a cloak, to keep off the chill. Wordlessly, he knocked twice.

No one had complained about getting woken up yet, but he still kept quiet. Better to examine the door for a minute.

There was one knothole, too high for him to reach, that you could look through. Chances are, Marie had blocked it up. Down here, the door was more worn, and marked with bootprints. During the day, Kanda didn't have as much subtlety.

When it opened, the door distinctly made no sound. Marie knew the true value of silence. The lack of a squeak was more noticeable in the Order than a loud one.

Even in the dark, Kanda looked up silently into Marie's blank eyes. He didn't need to say anything. His breathing spoke for him.

He had been here, on the doorstep, looking into the room, many times before. He knew it like his own. A rudimentary phonograph, in the corner. A bed. A bag. Not much else. Marie had liked to read before, Tiedoll had told him, but now that wasn't an option.

Marie stepped aside, letting Kanda in, and quietly closed the door. The slight change in his expression, from calm to worried, was almost unnoticeable in the dark. He watched Kanda drag a straw pallet from under the room's solitary bunk, as well as a few blankets from the pile of spares. Marie had had a few more in the pile since about a year ago, when he'd pointed out that he'd grown up in a much hotter climate.

Most people believed him. They wouldn't know he'd grown up in Austria.

Kanda threw the pallet down behind the door, and curled up on it in a nest of sheets.

"'Night, Marie."

"Good night, Kanda."

Marie had left his family behind long ago, and had not looked back.

Not often. Loath as he was to admit it, he had to be an exorcist. He couldn't go back to a normal life, not after losing his team. Nor could the other. He doubted that any of them could live without the constant rush; it was as addictive as any drug.

But sometimes, he wished that he could take Kanda and the others away, to a place where nothing could ever find them, or hurt them, ever again.

"Hey—"

He tensed as something clamped around his ribcage. He hadn't noticed the sound of Kanda's feet, or the wet edge to his breaths.

"—Marie."

"Yes, Kanda?"

The child sniffed, and exhaled to steady himself. Marie would call it a hug, but Kanda held on like a drowning man clinging to a raft.

"I'm not going to let you die."

The words hit like bullets. No child should ever say that. Not like this, knowing that death really could come tomorrow.

He had never asked Kanda about what had happened at the Asian Branch, before they met. He knew enough. He knew he had been close to death.

Not just close to death, but willing to die.

He knelt down, and hugged Kanda around his narrow shoulders. For all his strength, he was still just eleven.

"Don't worry, Kanda. I won't die. I promise."

…

There were days when the rain came down slowly, as if the sky had been hung out to drip and dry. Then there were the normal rainy days, when someone had turned on the celestial shower. Less often, rain squalls came through, wringing out the rags and dumping a few buckets before sweeping off to some other place.

And then there were the _storms_.

Two or three of the five layers of clothing Daisya had on were already soaked through. This rain was coming down thick and fast, cycling through lighter and heavier stages, as if it could barely keep up with itself and had to stop for breath.

Each drop struck hard enough to bruise bare skin, or so it seemed, puddling water on the ground before it could drain away. You could see a thick skin of it, splashing up where the new drops fell. Sometimes, the wind would gust hard enough to make ripples on the surface; sometimes, it would even blow the water over the edge of the puddle. The slurry had already worked its way into Daisya's boots, slowly filling them with mud.

He stood alone on a patch of tamped-down dirt, a training field out the back of the building that was headquarters, under what should have been a pitch black sky. As far as he knew, everyone else was either working, fast asleep, or pulling their pillows down over their ears to muffle the sound of rain.

They just didn't _get_ it.

Lightning struck, outlining the stark silhouettes of spruce and oak. Reflected in Daisya's wide eyes, the world turned white.

This was when you could feel alive. Dreary grey skies, unforgiving cloudless blue — they chased each other, day after day, sucking out every ounce of energy you had left. Nothing, nothing, nothing. It'd make some healthy young guy want to slit his wrists, it was so boring.

Thunder cracked, as if the very mountains had split. Heavier than basalt scraping lead, it crushed the pounding rain beneath it.

Daisya smiled in bliss, listening to the sound crash down.

This wasn't boring. Not at all.

Without really knowing why, he reached up to grab a drop. He spotted one, made sure to snap his hand shut around it just at the right moment, and closed his fingers around it.

Somehow, it sliced between them.

The sight of the raindrop escaping, only to crash to the ground a moment later, was a funny sight. Why not just take the easy way out, and die in the hand rather than on the ground? Why go to all that trouble?

Because it's _exciting_ , that's why.

Laughing, he spun around, arms outstretched like a kid discovering snow for the first time.

He loved the rain. It chilled him to the bone, sliced and hit, and ended up getting him a talking-to, nine times out of ten. Too wet. Shoes ruined. Out of the house past midnight, young rascal. But hey, back home it didn't rain very often. It was worth it.

Lightning, again, and the crack of splitting wood. Daisya could see the wood sending up smoke as the wind whipped the trees into a frenzy.

He loved the rain. It made him feel alive.

And to rain so heavily, with lightning and thunder and all the trappings of a good thunderstorm, he almost felt like it loved him too.

Something in his chest hurt for just a moment.

 **Probably the reason I've unfortunately neglected Marie is that if I think about his and Kanda's relationship for more than about ten seconds, I get really sad. Marie for best older brother and Kanda for not the worst younger brother 2k16.**

 **You know, I'd sort of like Kanda to die before the end of the manga, just because he'd finally be at peace, but for Marie's sake alone I also want him to be alive and happy.**


	37. Chapter 37

**I've overdone a lot of things in this fic, and this chapter it's the italics. The descriptions here aren't meant to be accurate at all to the Opera Garnier (I'm using the alternate universe excuse), but are cobbled together from the various auditoriums and arts centres I had to scurry about in as a small choirgirl. The Mystery of Udolpho is the book that Marie was reading. There are fifty pages, if not far more, in that book describing trees. It was a long slog.**

 **Also I only read this through once before publishing so let's hope I'm lucky today. If anything's woefully inaccurate or inconsistent just tell me. Thanks so much for the reviews, again!**

It was like some sort of underworld, Daisya thought as they passed silently through the door. People's souls would be caught here, lost in these twisty, twining hallways.

They never stayed straight for more than a few metres, and they were covered in black cloth and posters and notices and pins. There were only bits and pieces where the actual walls, brick and stone with bits of wood and plain mortar to patch up the original, showed through. They sure seemed to be messy; if the rest of the place was like this, it would be a nightmare finding the Innocence.

If it was in one of those sheets of paper, they'd be here 'til next autumn, or the one after that! You could barely even read them, it was so dark, let alone try and count them.

Oh, there was a lamp here and there along the low-ceilinged corridor, and the hunched old man that let their little group held one up, but it was dingier than a nighttime alley. And the dust, the _dust_. There seemed to be more of it here than there was back home in the heat. Daisya was amazed there weren't plants growing in the curtains. They were already home to a few colonies of molds and mildews. A black-tinged one here, a green spot there, curtains, curtains everywhere.

They were thick and luxuriously velvety. And they really were everywhere. This place had enough little rooms to be a honeycomb, and it looked like no room was complete without curtains blocking it off and some sort of rug. And a whole bunch of dust. Maybe the old man would know something about it.

"Hey, mister, why're there so many curtains?"

The pallid old man had called that tone of voice a stage whisper, when he gave them their lecture at the beginning. Sort of appropriate, considering where they were.

Daisya had only ever _heard_ about opera houses from Jeanne and Kiki. They said they used to be in training for a ballay core, or something. Jumping around in frilly dresses, getting beat up by the master, all that girly stuff.

Then, well, something had happened. Something alwasy happened. You found some Innocence and then the akuma came. If Daisya had learned one thing at the Order, it was that he was pretty lucky.

Or, at any rate, he should have been lucky.

His mind clicked back to the present, and he noticed the man hadn't answered.

"'Scuse me," he repeated, more loudly, "What's with all the curtains?"

"Silence!" was the cracked reply. "They block the sound, and we wouldn't _need_ them if there weren't brats making noise, wouldn't we?"

Or old men coughing and wheezing like a bellows.

It made sense, but Daisya didn't bother to grace the guy with a reply. Something else had caught his eye, in a dressing-type room off to the side.

This place was full of _stuff_. Every room had a piano, or a few music stands, or a rack of these ridiculously puffy dress-things. They looked like a tank top sewn on to a cloud.

Even though she didn't think anyone could see her, Daisya had noticed that Lenalee seemed to have her eye on those. After all, hadn't she been complaining about her uniform getting too small? She was saying she'd like a nice skirt. Apparently trousers just chafed and got in the way. Oh, and here in this one was a dummy wearing a few yards of lace. Could anyone wear that? Wouldn't it be see-through? How did they hold it up?

Daisya tore his eyes away after Kanda elbowed him in the ribs, and hopped back up front, behind the old man. Mrs. Branch Chief had told him he was going to have to take some stupid leadership role on this one. He suspected Kanda had been complaining.

Someone scuttled past, muttering "excuse me," and Daisya's head whipped around to follow them. Was that a sword? A cool sword, with fancy designs? Not like Kanda's boring old—ouch! Hey, that one hurt!

Okay, okay, back on task. This place was way too full of things to look that weren't an old, torn, and worst of all, paisley-patterned waistcoat stretched over some old dude's hump.

Oh, and there were always _those_ people that passed them, all done up in face paint and fancy clothes so that they looked like dolls. Daisya was temped to try on some of the coats — they were all lovely and long and looked like something out of those books that Marie liked to read — the mystery of something or other.

He could hear Lenalee and Kanda muttering behind him, about the hair bow on that one girl. Daisya couldn't really get what all the fuss was about. He didn't have hair problems, by virtue of not really having hair anymore. It grew in patches, and if he didn't cut it off it was always held down under the bandages.

Mystery of a dolphin, that was the book's name. At any rate, that's what it sounded like. Daisya had tried reading it, but fifty pages it in was still nothing but describing trees, so he'd asked Marie what happened next. Apparently a lot of things. He hadn't kept track of it all, but that Montoni guy was a right bastard. Pretty clever, though. The type to have a nice coat.

He caught another snatch of music, this time violin. Jeanne could play a bit, but nothing like this. Her fiddling always sounded like her — a bit low, and a bit rough, slightly like someone chuckling. And it went really fast.

This one was delicate, though it still was pretty darn quick. Sounded like someone was having a fainting fit while they were playing, or like someone made the violin out of the same stuff as Jerry's fancy china teacups. Sort of nice, you know.

Beneath the heavy red curtain, as they passed the source of the sound, he caught a glimpse of the player. A woman old enough to be his mother in a pitch black dress, bow moving fast enough to blur. Then again, most things blurred in this cruddy light.

A rough tug on his sleeve pulled him away as they turned another of the myriad corners.

"Quit zoning out, space case," Kanda muttered. "We're on a mission."

"Don't need to remind me."

Daisya caught a glimpse of the man looking back. He was frowning hard enough to add another few wrinkles. There were so many that you'd almost lose a weaker expression in them.

"I said _silence!_ "

The guy was trying, but it was pretty hard to shout when you were whispering.

Pity Jeanne had to stay in Algiers for another week. They could really have done with someone who knew the territory.

Here the carpet was a bit thicker, a bit more plush underfoot. For once Daisya wished he wasn't wearing boots, so he could enjoy it a bit more. Even cheap rugs were miles better than the flagstones at the Order.

They must have been going somewhere important, because there were more lights here, too. And better quality ones, too.

Out of the corner of his eye, Daisya thought he saw a lady standing beside him, and paused for a moment to take a look.

Three curtained walls, a dress on a mannequin, good thick carpet, and no one there.

But there was something…

There was that blurring again. There weren't any lights in the room, but the wooden mannequin seemed to blend into the background in this light. Or…

No, there was something. If he could just squint, and turn his head like _so—_

"Daisya?"

Lenalee tapped him on the shoulder, throwing a glance to Kanda ahead.

"Kanda's given up. It's probably better if you start walking."

"Right," he whispered.

Reluctantly, he tore his eyes away, but there was something not quite right there. It was like there was no time, not in that room.

A few metres on, a set of rickety wooden steps rose out of the ground, spiralling upwards.

"Come on, we don't have all day."

Even though he sounded like he was going to become one with the dust any moment, the old man was still pretty spry. Daisya found himself panting a bit, climbing up and up. Of _course_ , Lenalee and Kanda didn't have any problems. This was why he liked working with Isaac or Jeanne on these types of missions. They were even spacier than he was, and Isaac in particular like to dawdle. Daisya was a model — well, not model, but slightly quicker exorcist by comparison. He could read words and music, and count.

Then again, Isaac could draw. And his family actually liked him. And he liked his family. Weird, weird kid. No wonder he and Jeanne hung out so much.

Up and up and up, the stairs went on forever. It was a bit worrisome how much they creaked, and how many steps had a plank or two missing.

The curtains, too, looked like they were velvet rain. They hadn't been there on the underground level, but they went up from about seven feet above there along the whole height of the staircase — ten metres? More? These ones were a bit thinner, probably to support their weight.

The finder — that was what the old man was, despite having been half-retired for years — finally stopped at the top of the staircase, and put a hand out to the woman standing at the top.

"Well, these are the exorcists, mister. You want to tell 'em anything?"

Okay, maybe the person wasn't a woman. But when he spoke his voice was still mid-range, and soft.

" _They're_ the exorcists?"

They got that a lot. After all, Lenalee was still only nine and almost a half, as she insisted. They still looked like kids.

"All we could spare. They've got another mission in Denmark, so best we be quick about it."

The young man nodded. It was pretty hard to tell him apart from he black curtains — he had black shoes, black socks, black trousers, and a loose black shirt on. He was so much darker than the pale old man, in this light, for him to almost seem black as well. A bit like Idris.

He also seemed to be important enough, but not in terms of position. One of the people who keeps things running. He'd know and notice more than whatever bastard was running this place.

"I see," he said thoughtfully. "I…don't really have too much freedom to let you investigate, but I can allow you to watch from the wings during the rehearsal. The Prima Ballerina was the one who first complained about feeling odd, but I'm not sure if it was that or just the pressure getting to her. We're more concerned about…uh, side effects."

And here was another squeamish guy who didn't even want to mention akuma.

"So how many people've died?" Daisya asked dryly. Get to the point already, man.

"Um," the young man said nervously, "I'm not quite sure. You see…"

"I bet the dust just blends in with–"

A combination of an elbow in the ribs and a high-heeled foot-stamp cut off Daisya's muttering.

"…many of the people that come here — gentlemen in particular — they don't exactly return to their primary residences after the performances, so it's useless asking if they've been home. Frankly, if there are any…things here, I think they're more subtle than what you normally deal with."

"So what do you want us to do about it?" Kanda asked.

"We can't exactly do anything until we know the facts," Lenalee added.

The man — Daisya had settled on "head stagehand" — nodded, and fidgeted some more.

"Yes, I'd think so. I think you three might know a bit more what to look for. I've pulled a few strings, so I think we can allow you to watch the performance tonight, provided you don't make a fuss."

"Got it."

"Of course."

"Yeah."

Daisya's answer was first, with Lenalee on his heels and Kanda dragging behind. The stagehand nodded in reply.

"I see. Just try and get this over with quickly."

"We will," Lenalee answered.

It was a bit weird, how high her voice was compared to the stagehand's, when he was the one going to her for help. Then again, Daisya surmised, they were all pretty young-looking.

And young in general, to most people.

"Well, don't just stand there!"

The old finder was scuttling back down the staircase. He must have been made out of sinews, because there definitely wasn't enough muscle there to power him through all of that.

After Lenalee, Daisya followed, trying not to step in any of the holes. Whoever used these steps on a regular basis had to have a death wish.


	38. Chapter 38

**Me: doesn't even bother to look up Tintagel castle and makes up a description on the spot, using 'alternate universe' as an excuse**

 **Also me: looks up history of caffeine to see if it had been named and discovered as of the late 1800s so that I can have Daisya use the word 'caffeinated'**

 **Sorry for the irregular updates, but it's not going to get much better soon - I can't quite get this section as I'd like it to be, and right now I'm sewing scraps of arcs together instead of bothering to write a coherent narrative. Oh well, I hope you guys enjoy, read, and even review!**

Daisya sat back comfortably in his seat, and fiddled with the pair of binocular-things they'd given him. They called them opera glasses, but they were nothing like the old man's glasses. They were just a pair of skinny binoculars on a stick, with a bunch of blue and gold enamel. He could see why you needed them, though. Even with younger eyes, he had to squint to properly see what was on the stage. And most of the people here were as old as the pale-skinned finder.

Of the three of them, he'd had the deepest voice and been the tallest, so the old finder had kitted him out with one of those nice coats and a fancy mask, to hide the tattoos. He was rushed up, and seated in one of the boxes they could afford not to sell. If anyone was acting fishy in the audience or on stage, he was supposed to notice. Kanda was downstairs, in a dress serving drinks, and Lenalee was wearing a small version of the smooth-voiced man's black outfit and was running around the stage with the rest of the stagehands. They'd decided her small size and nimble feet would suit the job better than Kanda's brute strength.

Hopefully it wouldn't come to anything, but the three of them had agreed that if an akuma came out, Daisya would be the first to attack. He'd send out a low-level wave of damage, and Kanda and Lenalee would try to take it out. The thinking was that Daisya could paralyze it first, so that they could prevent collateral damage, and have an easier time of fighting in such an enclosed space.

As for the Innocence, it was a toss-up as to whether or not there even was any. There hadn't been a whole lot of disappearances or deaths, so there might not have been any there, but there were enough for it to be a possibility. Akuma normally didn't show themselves so brazenly unless there was some involved.

Lenalee had the best spot to try and figure out if there was any Innocence, but Daisya was also supposed to keep a lookout. That's why Kanda had made him go ask for some opera glasses in the first place. They were pretty to look at, but when you were actually using them they looked damn stupid. It gave all those high-class old folks the air of stick insects.

This show that they were putting on tonight was a ballet. Daisya had learned just a few minutes ago that it was actually spelled with an "et" instead of an "ay." Anyhow, the ballerinas were the ones with the fluffy skirts and skintight trousers. Try as he might, he couldn't imagine either Jeanne or Kiki in either of those. Jeanne couldn't be separated from her baggy old trousers. She liked them with lots of pockets for interesting rocks, and she always tucked them into her boots to keep the ends from getting mud on them. Kiki, on the other hand, really liked leather leggings and a long chain mail tunic. Said it was practical. She was probably right, after all. Kiki normally was.

He brought his mind back to the present, which was actually pretty nice. The seats were comfy, even though they were dusty, and they had someone pour you a nice coffee at the intermission apparently. Daisya liked tea best, but anything caffeinated would do in a heartbeat.

A quick dimming of the lights across the hall caught his attention, and the murmur of patrons' voices hushed. Two circles of light veered over the seats before coming to rest on the tall curtains at the front. Daisya guessed this signaled the start of the show, and watched expectantly as the curtains were drawn aside, and the spotlights came to rest on centre stage.

The ballerinas came prancing across the stage now, and a couple of boy ones came on wearing those trousers that looked really painfully tight. They probably called them "tights" because of that. The dancers drifted between lines and circles, then clusters, then duos, hopping around and waving their arms. It was all very nice, but the music was too slow, and it all felt a bit stale.

The stagehand had said that there was one ballerina, the Prima ballerina, who'd be wearing a better costume, and that she'd be coming on later. Apparently she was the one that was noticing the weird stuff first, before the akuma started to attack. Maybe her dance would be more interesting.

He sat back in the red velvet, watching the ballerinas on stage and the curtains at the edge of his vision. Akuma were attracted to exorcists, just as they were to Innocence.

The music had changed, and now was pretty damn nice. Sort of familiar, though. Maybe the same composer as what Marie played, or something.

Something…

A burst of music signalled a change in tempo, and a ballerina came spinning out from in the wings, wearing a more elaborate dress from the rest of them. The Prima, probably. Her moves were more elaborate, and there was something else about her.

Music forgotten, Daisya whipped the opera glasses to his face, and winced as he accidentally hit himself on the bridge of the nose.

She was certainly dancing, just like the others. But that wasn't what made her stand out.

The dress.

It had been in that room. The weird one.

Daisya watched intently as she swirled in time to the music. For just a moment, her movements seemed stiff, arms moving perfectly in time, but with a hint of jerkiness, of mechanical movement. When the other ballerinas fell slightly behind, she stayed perfectly in place, not affected by anything on or off the stage, not even a small lag in the tempo of the music.

Without time. That was what it was like. There was only the ballerina, the music, and him, all alone.

The ballerina, whose room was haunted.

The music, hauntingly familiar.

And Daisya, trying to remember who had once played this tune.

Marie? Yes, he played music on his strings, echoing up and down the hallways, and warm and liquid as sunshine, no…

Not Marie.

All he could hear was Marie's strings, but there was something beneath it.

Something that was only as distant to him as where he'd put down his jacket, or where the old man had left his glasses, but that seemed too important to forget like that.

He wasn't supposed to go to this place, his mind warned him, don't turn down that corridor _don't–_

The stones of the hallway melted into each other. His mind was his own version of headquarters, complete with endless pale grey hallways, the colour of a rainless cloudy day. He didn't like it all that much, but it was how he found things. In the broom closets, in the room that could have been Lenalee's. Kanda never let him in, but there was still a closed door that might have been his.

It was somewhere above the dining hall. Somewhere in a little alcove, this music that sparkled like snow, like ice, like the frosted branches he'd seen for the first time a year or two ago that were so _beautiful_.

The room was tucked out of sight, just under one of the buttresses.

The strains of the orchestra filtered through his ears, and the sparkling noise became that of a piano, played with fire as well as the ice this piece required.

And with the piano, a voice.

 _"People don't love people like us, you understand?"_

Daisya's fingers tightened around the opera glasses, and the lady dancing in front of him seemed to force her way back into his sight.

Now the seat was uncomfortable itchy, and the red was seeping into his vision.

Antonina…he'd nearly blocked her out for good. It was a trick they'd learned in class. If you repeat a word over and over again, it stops meaning anything. Snow. Snow, snow, snow, snow, snow, snow, snowsnowsnowsnowsnow. Now it just looked weird. Same with people. If you think about them over and over again, break them down into components - Antonio, like the Italian composer Marie liked; Nina, like Isaac's nickname for Jeanne; tangled hair, like tree branches; sunken eyes, like the witches in fairy tales - they stopped existing.

Antonina moved jerkily, like she was always stumbling from one foot to the next, held up by flimsy strings.

The dancer looked so wrong. She danced perfectly, but like a marionette. As if each move was made by someone else, someone far away that she tried to copy.

The curtains were too red and the light was too bright and the dancers spun. A shadow rose up in front of him. Daisya could barely think straight.

And that thought made Daisya whip around and drive the Charity Bell through the akuma behind him.

These ones got into your head. He hadn't seen that before.

And besides, he'd found the Innocence.

He controlled the waves of sound, slowly wearing away at the akuma instead of destroying it in a single blow. He didn't want to interrupt the show, after all.

Eventually, a new layer of dust settled over the box.

Now that the akuma was taken care of — the Bell could work without the verbal trigger on low-level ones like his — he turned back to the stage. There was work to do, in the dust and the curtains and the music that he could swear was like what Antonina had played months ago, on a cool, windy autumn day. Even in the middle of a snowy February, the music still reminded him of when he'd gotten to know the others at the Order.

All that aside, there was work to be done.

…

"Kanda! Psst, Kanda!"

The shout-whisper seemed to carry across the servers' waiting room, and the short young lady standing shyly in the corner shot him an exasperated glare before navigating her way to the door. Daisya knew well enough to stand lightly on his toes. Kanda was probably in _that_ kind of mood.

When Kanda reached him, he grabbed him by the collar, and dragged him out of sight, behind the curtained walls of the room. Yep, as was becoming more usual, Daisya's prediction was correct.

"You're supposed to be watching," Kanda hissed, letting go once they were out of sight.

"But I found the Innocence!"

"Yeah." Kanda looked doubtful. "And what about the akuma?"

"I took care of it," Daisya replied, rolling his eyes. "Listen — it's the Prima ballerina whatsitsname. Dress thing. I saw it before, and she was dancing a little weird. Probably someone's ghost got stuck in it."

The curtains shifted to the side as a servant scurried past, and then scurried back, holding a bottle of amber liquid, not meeting Daisya and Kanda's stares. Once she'd gone, the conversation resumed.

"Yeah, right."

"No! I mean yes! She's the only one that's acting weird, and the akuma decided to come out when she was doing her solo whatever thing."

Kanda raised an eyebrow doubtfully, but didn't turn away.

"You better be sure. I'll take care of the lower levels, you stick to the upper ones. Just take care of the akuma for now."

"Hey, I'm older than you. I should be giving the orders."

"Whatever."

Kanda stuck out a hand, and pushed him backwards with all the effort it would take Daisya to knock over a doll.

"I'll tell Lenalee what's going on."

Daisya rolled his eyes. It was a losing battle.

"Sure thing. Let's meet up down there when everything's over."

…

The three exorcists huddled in a circle in one of the wings off stage, trying to avoid getting in the way of the black-clothed workers scurrying to and fro.

"So what now?" Daisya shouted over the sounds of applause, "Do we wait for her to get down?"

"You're the one who pointed it out," Kanda retorted, "You come up with a plan—"

Lenalee raised her hand to interrupt him, and spoke clearly.

"I'll talk to her. She won't want to talk to you boys."

"Why not?" Daisya asked.

"Do you really need to ask?" muttered Kanda, not quite under his breath.

"Kan- _da_."

Daisya tried to shove Kanda to the side, and nearly fell into the head stagehand when he dodged. The guy had just sneaked up behind him — he didn't make a sound when he moved, in those slippers.

"Sorry," said Daisya hurriedly, "We were just—"

"Have you three made any progress?" the stagehand interrupted.

"Yes," replied Lenalee, "We were wondering if we could talk to your Prima Ballerina when she comes offstage?"

Daisya could have sworn that Lenalee managed to make her eyes even bigger-looking and shinier than they already were, but whatever face she'd made, the guy seemed willing to help.

"So long as she agrees," he said softly, "You'll have to wait for her somewhere, so you don't get in the way. Please follow me."

With that, he turned on his heel, and walked off into the shadows, down a small flight of stairs, then along the low-ceilinged hallway. Daisya had trouble keeping up with the guy — he was having to run a bit, even though he was pretty tall for his age.

More rooms flashed past. More stories. Daisya didn't have time to notice them all.

They pulled up to a small room, near the other side of the stage, and the man ushered them inside.

"Now wait," he instructed, "And don't get in the way."

Before leaving, the man shot a pointed glare at Daisya.

"See?" said Lenalee softly.

"Hey, you're not supposed to side with Kanda!"


	39. Chapter 39

**This still isn't great but anyhow...**

Daisya shot a look of disappointment at Lenalee, and cast around for something to sit on. Wandering over, he decided that the small footstool in the corner would do just fine. They wouldn't be here for long, hopefully.

Kanda was already leaning against the wall, opposite the door, and Lenalee had perched on the edge of a wooden chair. The room was only, what, ten, fifteen feet square? Not too luxurious. It looked like it was the dumping ground for semi-useful junk, like a chair missing part of its back, or a music stand stuck on one setting that was too low for anyone over the age of 14.

The colour scheme was still dark red, worn and faded, but at least there was a patch of bare wood along one wall. The red was starting to get boring.

Daisya tried to shift into a more comfortable posture, then gave up, and stared at the wall. Let's try and remember how to count in German. They'd learned it in class, but it kept slipping out of his head. He used French and English more often, and his mind still operated in Turkish, even after a year and a bit with the Order.

 _Eins, zwei, drei, fier, fuenf, sechs, sieben, acht, neun, zehn, elf_ —ha ha it's an elf— _zwoelf…_

They weren't left waiting long before an apparition in white startled Daisya, who'd just started fidgeting with the half-torn covering on the footstool.

"Hello." Lenalee, who'd obviously been paying attention, stood up to greet the new arrival. "Are you Mlle Rochette?"

She walked over to her, and extended a hand, which did look pretty silly when it was a nine-year-old doing it.

But even as she did, the ballerina didn't move, hovering on the threshold. Her arm twitched, as if trying to reach forward to Lenalee in return.

"I…am. What do you want?"

Lenalee retracted her hand, a timid smile appearing on her face.

"Your dancing was very pretty tonight, Mlle. It must have taken ages to learn the steps. I could never do that."

Daisya was keeping one eye on Lenalee's boots, in case she decided to activate, and another on the dancer.

"Yes."

It might have been his imagination, but there was another echo layered on top of the voice that had first answered. Rochette's first voice was clear and in a deeper register, but this one sounded a tiny bit dusty around the edges.

"How long ago did you learn it?"

"Th—three years ago," stuttered the ballerina. She seemed to be forcing the words out, fighting against her own body.

"Sorry," said Lenalee, "Mlle Bouchard, did you say three years?"

"Thirty."

The echo had become stronger, blending with the dancer's first voice. That smartass Lenalee must have done a bit of asking around herself, to see who died recently. When she called the dancer "Bouchard," the twitching had seemed to stop.

"No wonder you do it so well! It was perfect."

The dancer smiled indulgently, and gave a quarter-curtsey. Daisya had to remind himself that she probably saw Lenalee as just some little kid.

"Thank you very much, young mademoiselle. I've had plenty of practice."

"I can't even imagine it," agreed Lenalee, "May I ask you another question?"

"Certainly."

"How long ago did you die?"

Daisya held his breath. People sometimes got offended if you asked them that, but whichever dancer this one was, she'd taken a liking to Lenalee.

"A few months."

"Is that enough?"

Now, there was a moment of frigid silence.

"Pardon?"

"Your ghost has stayed a few months past your death. Would you like to stay here longer? Or would you like to continue onwards, into eternal life?"

General Yeager always told them to convince spirits to abandon their Innocence, rather than taking it by force. The best way to do that was playing the "Wow, you're going to heaven!" card.

"What?"

"We can let your soul pass on, if you want to."

This seemed to shock the woman, and her voice momentarily lapsed into the Prima Ballerina's slightly higher tone.

"Please, if you would—And why should I do that?"

Mid-sentence, the older woman took over.

"You would go to your reward, and Mlle Rochette could learn to be like you on her own, of her own accord."

"So—yes, please—so you have the authority of God?"

Lenalee nodded solemnly.

"Yes, as exorcists and servants."

The next silence lasted almost a minute. In the doorframe, the ballerina's body shivered, lips parted as if about to say something. Facing her was Lenalee, looking as cute and helpless as always. Daisya could see tendrils of green starting to shoot up from her feet.

He focused on his Innocence, and pictured the sound of it. Best to get it ready to activate than have it take a while to boot up.

"Then…"

The older voice spoke softly, letting the word drift through the air.

"I suppose this is fate."

She seemed to sigh, even as the ballerina's body still twitched in place.

"But I will request one thing."

Lenalee stiffened slightly, but no one would have noticed it.

"Of course."

"I ask you for once last dance before you do."

The twitching seemed to stop, and suddenly the dancer took on a relaxed, but stern posture. Rochette had been less pronounced, more fluid, but Bouchard was stately.

"And you shall receive one," answered Lenalee.

Turning, the ballerina swept her eyes over the room. Daisya felt that he'd been called on in a class he wasn't doing too well in, and saw Kanda staring intently at the ceiling. Hah, who knew he'd do the same?

He pulled the reins, and his attention snapped back to the present.

"Which one of you shall do it?" the ballerina asked. "You must volunteer yourselves."

"Do what?"

"Be my partner? A duet is far more interesting than a solo."

This seemed to surprise Lenalee, because she just looked over at Kanda. He made a face, and shrugged.

"I'm afraid—"

"I'll do it."

Daisya stood up. He didn't know about Lenalee, but he'd seen and dealt with Kanda's two left feet first hand. Mlle Ballerina here wouldn't want _that_ , now, would she?

"Then let us commence."

…

As soon as the dancer grabbed his wrist, his feet started to work of their own accord, running along with her — with them — and out into the main corridor. The two — three — of them retraced Daisya's earlier steps, racing up a flight of noisy steps to the empty stage.

A haunted dress sounded pretty stupid, particularly when it was as frilly as this one, but Daisya had to admit that having no control over your body was creepy as hell. His feet naturally avoided the spots where the wood had rotted slightly, gotten soft, and found their cues on the stage. This ballerina must have been a master, once.

Maybe that was why she was holding on so tightly. Dancing was her life, and both of those were hard habits to kick, or so he'd heard.

"Lights!" she called, and Lenalee seemed to fly up the stairs behind the stage. A match struck, flared in the silence, and caught the wick of a lantern. An adjustment of filters and glasses cast an imperfect circle over the stage.

"Music!"

This time, there was no player left to obey her, but a faint melody sprang up.

Hooked on to Daisya's cloak, the Charity Bell pulsed slightly, sending out faint and slightly off-tune sparks of noise. It had some amount of memory, so he set it on one of the songs that had rung out earlier. It started softly, timidly, but he knew that it wouldn't stay that way.

He didn't feel like the dancer was someone to get stubborn with.

"Now."

His legs — and arms, and everything else — moved according to someone else's will, and the dancer led them perfectly. Was this what puppets felt like? He didn't envy them.

He didn't envy Mlle Rochette, who'd had to live, even for a few weeks, knowing that she didn't belong to herself. All you ever have is yourself, so if that gets taken away…well, you're straight outta luck, then.

You may as well just give up.

…

Kanda watched, from the shadows in the wings. Even though he'd never been here before, this place seemed familiar.

He must have been here, in his old life.


	40. Chapter 40

**And so we move on. I might add another chapter between this one and the last one, but I haven't written it yet, so I'll go with this for now. I theorize that the Order tries to make exorcists more manageable by regulating who they go with, so Kanda gets all the new kids, the rowdy ones, the ones they think will break him down. That's why he gets paired up with Allen and Lavi despite threatening endless harm on them on several occasions. Or maybe not. Maybe, he's just really unlucky.**

The cart lurched, Daisya remained asleep, and Kanda clenched his fists.

It was September again, and the most recent fall rain had been a day or so before, leaving this back-country road full of dried ruts. To make matters worse, Daisya's mysterious circadian rhythm had insisted that a cart that jumped every few metres was the perfect place for a nap. Take that, Kanda's usual attitude towards just about anything, and put that together with Daisya's unfortunate habit of sleeping on whatever surface was available, and you had the full picture.

Kanda's various elbows and pushes never had an effect; firstly, because Daisya could sleep through a thunderstorm and probably an artillery battle, and secondly, because the lurching of the cart and the body's automatic balancing system meant that Daisya would always come to rest at the point of least discomfort, i.e. Kanda. Even a bony thirteen-year-old was softer than splintered wood.

During the day the sun still had the warmth of summer, but the wind that blew in through the window of the carriage gave off a little chill that made Kanda's human blanket less annoying than usual. Autumn was here.

As if on cue, it encountered another bump, and Kanda felt his teeth clack together.

For some reason, the director had make sure he was stuck with either Daisya or Lenalee for just about every _single_ mission he'd run these past four months. And sometimes both. Joy. Marie would've been better than those two brats.

Kanda elbowed Daisya again, to no avail. The sun had already set, and it was going to be dark soon, so the driver would be switching off. And Kanda wasn't about to stay awake another twelve hours, not with this idiot drooling the time away. He'd have to pull his own weight. For once in his life.

He tried to ignore the weight that was on his shoulder, not being pulled, and ran over the mission specifics again. Location: Congress Poland. Part of the Russian Empire. Climate: cold. Town: middle of nowhere. Innocence activity spotted, but no akuma yet. Good for kids.

Like they cared about that shit.

The cart lurched again, and after a moment kept trundling on through the forest. The trees were spruce, mixed with fiery deciduous. They outlined themselves against the changing sky.

This was going to be a long trip, with no adults there to explain that they were to be taken seriously. And with Daisya's habits, they were just going to be treated like a couple of average idiots. Never mind that they'd been through more than any of these knock-kneed rural twerps.

Then again, this was part of the Russian Empire. They'd been through as much.

He grimaced. The higher-ups never seemed to get that the kids there couldn't count as kids. They weren't adults or children, but stuck somewhere in between. Pretending that they were normal children was just patronizing and annoying. But treating them like tools was just—

Cruel.

They could never be normal.

Except for maybe Daisya.

He hadn't been locked up like Lenalee, he wasn't paranoid like Isaac, never stopped talking for days at a time like Jeanne. Hah, if only he did. Even Kiki, Helle, and Idris couldn't fit the mould of all the cackling village brats they passed sometimes. Helle smiled and smiled, and never fucking stopped, and Idris and Kiki got _angry_. And Antonina, to put it bluntly, didn't even count as human, now.

So, of them all, Daisya was the only one that laughed and complained whenever he felt like it, and complained about just usual stuff. He was the jack of all talents, and annoying as hell.

Kanda felt something boil in his chest. That bastard laughed too much.

It was so wrong.

And it was painful.

The feeling was just a patina on the surface of a lake of God-knew-what, but it was there.

He elbowed Daisya viciously.

" _Ow!_ Hey, what was that for?"

Daisya rocked back to upright, rubbing his eyes. Kanda shot a customary glare at him.

"You've been sleeping for hours," he muttered, managing to turn a statement of fact into an insult.

"Oh, that," Daisya answered bluntly, already refastening his bandages with a safety pin, "Did you want a turn, or something?"

He heard a sigh from beside him.

"Then why'd you–"

"Just be quiet."

Daisya straightened his hood, tossing the bell around and over his shoulder.

"Suit yourself. I'm going back to sleep."

Kanda's muscles tensed involuntarily.

"No."

"Why not?"

"You snore."

Daisya made a face. He had a talent for them.

"Aw, shut up. I do not."

"How would you know?" asked Kanda shortly, irritable as ever.

"I'd hear it."

"No, you'd be asleep."

Daisya shook his head. "I'm still going to sleep. You'd be actually yelling if you were annoyed. Am I right?"

Kanda made a face. He didn't have as many of them as Daisya's, but they did the trick.

"No."

Daisya grinned.

"Yep."

He slumped down in his seat, and pulled his hood down and collar up. Kanda knew that gravity would do its work, and he'd end up leaning one way or the other eventually.

"O'course," said Daisya, voice muffled by the fabric, "If you want a break, I can stay awake for a while."

Kanda's face twisted in distaste, and he crossed his legs, staying silent.

"So? Gonna take me up on my offer?"

Daisya had sprung back into an upright position, but his hood still shaded his eyes. A grin was still plastered on his face.

"If it's going to stop me," Kanda snapped, giving off the impression of threads snapping in a rope, "From having to listen to you."

"It might."

Kanda didn't know it, but dark circles were beginning to show beneath his thin skin.

"Deal."

A sniggering noise emanated from the depths of the hood, and Daisya shook his head, pushing it back on to his shoulders.

"Sure thing," he said. "I'll stop talking, you stop elbowing me."

"You _fucking—_ "

...

Kanda slept more peacefully than you'd imagine. From where he'd laid his head on Daisya's shoulder, he hadn't moved in hours. He didn't even snore; he breathed as softly as always, and Daisya could barely hear it over the creaking of the cart.

It was funny. Kanda always looked like some hero in a book: beautiful (Daisya was still pretty cheesed that there were no cool, ugly characters) and emotionally constipated. It had taken him ages to figure out that complaining = being happy and showing any kind of weakness or smiling or whatever = being very unhappy indeed. Most of the time, he just guessed that Kanda would feel just the same as him — if he were in Kanda's shoes — and vice versa.

But when he was asleep, his face scrunched up, his mouth hung open a bit, his neck was bent at a weird angle, and he was drooling a bit. He looked like just another dumb kid, too bored to stay awake and too proud to admit he was tired.

Speaking of which, now seemed to be the perfect time to see if his hair was as soft as it looked. Lenalee's was really smooth and shiny when she let him braid it, or at least really soft for someone who probably didn't wash it much, and Kanda's looked even softer. And there was no chance in hell he was going to get off with touching it while Kanda was awake.

Well, maybe not no chance, but not a huge chance either. Daisya was never sure when it came to Kanda.

Gingerly, he hovered a hand over Kanda's head, and gently placed it down—

—and froze. Kanda seemed to stir, eyelids fluttering. After a moment, he shifted his head to a different position, and fell back into his coma.

Daisya counted five seconds — one one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand, four one thousand, five one thousand — and stroked sideways. Kanda's hair really was soft, and fine.

He let his hand slip down the ends, which weren't brittle and frayed, unlike his own or his siblings'.

Huh. He'd never have guessed that Kanda was the type, but the guy seemed to know a bit about hair.

Just to confirm his findings, Daisya replaced his hand on the top of Kanda's head, and repeated the movement.

And decided it would be best to be _absolutely_ sure about it.

Kanda always stared at dogs along the road and sometimes pet them, but Daisya decided that he was definitely more like a cat.

...

When Kanda woke up, blurry-eyed, stiff, and warm, his brain kicked him back to upright.

"What time is it?"

He combed his fingers through his hair busily. Hair tie — yes, it was there. Maybe Daisya did spare a thought for his own survival, for all that he tried to steal it when they were both awake.

"Just about dawn, and not a moment sooner. Geez, you're heavy."

Kanda said nothing, retying his ponytail and trying to ward off the rising embarrassment.

"Shut up. We need to get going soon."

"Yeah, yeah. How many miles is it from the town?"

Kanda had let out his hair, and kept combing it. Tangles were not fun to have.

"How the hell should I know?"

"I'm testing you. It's thirteen."

He put up his hands and retied his ponytail, deftly kicking Daisya in the shins as the latter tried to snatch his hair tie.

"Dammit."

Daisya's fingernails bit into his thumb, as they did when he was frustrated.

"I'm not going to hold back the next time you do that," growled Kanda, shooting him a dark look.

"It doesn't exactly hurt," murmured Daisya "Which reminds me…"

Daisya reached into a pocket, and fished out three crumpled, sketch-covered scraps of paper; the stub of a pencil; a bag of lozenges; a worn, snot-covered handkerchief; and finally a small flask of liquid and a glass vial.

"…I nearly forgot to take this."

Kanda shot a more disdainful look at him, which was comparatively worried. Even contempt could be expressed with so many different nuances, Daisya had noticed.

"You shouldn't need to take it anymore."

"Yeah, but it's better if I do. 'S easier to fight when you don't hurt all the time, you know?"

He spilled a tiny bit it into the vial, and downed it. Kanda made a face of disgust. That bastard, with his pain and his stupid medicine. Marie had told him what pain was for, when he'd asked why there was so much of it. It kept you alive. After that stunt in Budapest, and in the forest, and after everything since, he knew Daisya needed it more than most.

"You're going die," he said, "If you make everything stop hurting."

God knew that even the possibility of losing an exorcist meant that they'd try more and more to build them. Antonina wasn't too good at it, so she wasn't a big loss. But Daisya—

"Yeah, but at least I'll be having fun."

With his hood pulled back to reveal most of his face —and the grin accompanying it — Daisya looked as carefree and ignorant as ever Kanda would love and hate to be.

"Don't lie," Kanda said quietly, feeling his jaw clench.

Daisya hadn't seemed to notice, shoving the handful of scraps back into his pocket, and stretching, waiting perhaps for the anticipated bored reply. Ignorant.

"You're pathetic."

Kanda's voice was still soft, but it had an edge to it, like the stinging nettles that seemed so soft and harmless until you brushed against them, and felt it burn.

Daisya kicked back, and crossed one leg over the other. He'd had a while to learn about stinging nettles, and he still came out covered in welts every time they went near a patch. He always said they didn't hurt.

Bastard.

"Not lyin'. I am _never_ going to be bored again. I'm going to do whatever I want."

For a moment, there was just the clatter of wood and wheels and the sound of hooves.

"And if I die," he added, "Well, it'll suck a bit, but if I'm still having fun when I kick it then I won't regret it."

You fucking _moron_.

"Don't you have anything better to live for?" Kanda asked, almost but not quite snapping.

He always kept his fury quiet, under control. At this point it had passed the sharpened peak of rage, and was heading towards the valley of lightheaded anger that laughed so as not to kill.

Daisya shrugged in the face of it all, and started to talk again.

"Not really."

He seemed to consider this for a moment.

"No, not really. My family's nice enough, but I write home, and I don't ever really want to go back there."

He stared up at the sky, as if watching the stars disappear.

"You've got _no_ idea how boring it was. The only thing to do was play soccer. Half the time it was way too hot and the other half no one played with me because I was too good."

"Yeah, you sure had a tough life."

Sarcasm dropped off of Kanda's every word, and the cart trundled along. The trees were still green, but starting to fade. The sky's blue was just a few shades lighter than it had been. Funny, the things you notice.

"Eh, not really, but I've got to say if I'd been stuck there," Daisya started, speeding up, "I'd have been either be outta there or dead by the time I turned twenty. I promised that if I hadn't gone somewhere else by then, I was just going to start walking until I was out or dead of thirst or something because the only reason to stay alive is to have _fun_."

The words tumbled out with a breathless emphasis, ending in a hiss.

The cart hit another rut.

"So, anyway," he started again, catching a breath before Kanda retaliated, "It's not too fun to hurt all the time."

He smiled at Kanda, daring him to continue.

"Then you're useless," was the quiet reply.

Kanda had turned away, and Daisya could only guess as to his expression. He was acting weird — normally he would have yelled, or made some disapproving noise, or told him to shut up.

Daisya made another face.

"That's not nice."

"No, it's right."

There was an edge of thickness in Kanda's words. When he turned back to face Daisya, his face was covered with the smug grin of someone who was about to prove someone else wrong.

But with the way his eyes were wider than normal, the way his muscles from his face to his shoulders were tensed, he wasn't feeling happy or even self-satisfied right now.

"Either _you_ ram it though your head that what you think doesn't matter, or I'll do it for you," said Kanda, voice low, "You're an exorcist. You have to fight."

For once he laid the words down simply, speaking them as if they were strips of ripped methodically, not roughly, from the fabric of the air. Daisya knew he probably shouldn't go on. But, of course, he remained himself.

"So what? 'S not like I'm going to quit all of a sudden. They can't–"

"They will."

The thin bite had returned to Kanda's voice.

"You–"

"It doesn't matter what it is. They'll do it. Shut up. Now."

Kanda's knuckles were white, and Daisya's reluctant sense of self-preservation finally kicked in.

 **This is entirely conjecture, but Kanda's completely weird behaviour here is because he knows the Order is short on exorcists, and he knows that he and Alma were made because they were losing exorcists. Enter Daisya, who's reckless but talented, and Kanda's not having a good time. The anger he directs at Daisya is the anger he feels about his and Alma's creation, the anger he feels for the Order that forces them to fight. And Kanda, at this point, still values life enough to fight Alma. So he also unconsciously believes that everyone should want to live, and when Daisya's like 'eehhhh i guess' he just snaps.**

 **Speaking of which, the reason for such an Edgy characterization for such a light-hearted character is as follows: Daisya grew up in a small town, didn't really have friends, didn't really like his family much, and hated the same thing day after day. The cheery exorcist in Barcelona values his own life far more, but the kid who spent most of his day trying to escape his family and his town by wandering on the outskirts alone might have. My headcanon is that he's so happy as an exorcist that death doesn't seem too bad, because he still can't really understand the concept. Kids don't really have that good of a concept of death - I remember not really feeling it as having any impact, and it still feels like something far away, because I haven't seen it up close and personal. Killing akuma is just reducing them to dust, so I feel like Daisya is also like that. Tl;dr he's careless and fancy-free, but also just a lonely, arrogant kid who's had the chance of a lifetime.**


	41. Chapter 41

**Wow, how unfortunate that there's been a massive hiatus. Whose fault has that been?**

 **Anyhow midterms are midterms. They weren't so bad this semester, but it's taken me a while to get back into the swing of this story, so have a chapter. Most of it's pre-written, so I don't have much of an excuse for being so late, but I like to give everything a good edit before I post. This particular chapter has little significance, so do what you guys will with it.**

"I'm sorry, Kanda."

Those shouldn't have been the words that Daisya used, Kanda knew, and they shouldn't have been spoken so softly.

But they were.

…

At lasted, the sun finally crawled above the horizon. The smell of ice in the air warned that the days were just going to get darker from here on in.

This is a truer statement than you might think.

Kanda dropped a couple of coins into the hands of the driver, who bowed a fraction of an inch in thanks before snapping the reins. Those who did or could not speak were highly valued by the Order; even more so were those who were also deaf. Anyone who didn't know the right signs and codes just thought they were stupid, or sometimes insane, and never bothered to wonder what they were doing with a thousand marks' worth of tithe money in the middle of the night, somewhere in southern France.

In return for their services, they were paid. Sometimes well. Often, like the exorcists, they had little choice. The hand of God is forceful.

Slowly, the cart trundled off, still bouncing off of ruts and sticking behind stones. There was something exciting about a beaten-up old cart and mute driver going through the depths of the forest, but Daisya had to admit that trains had their advantages.

When it rounded the corner, the two young exorcists seem to snap back to the present.

"Let's get moving," said Kanda brusquely, shouldering his pack. "We should be able to scout it out today, and kill the akuma tonight, if we don't waste time."

" _You_ weren't the one who stayed up all night," Daisya grumbled half-heartedly, following suit, "It was freezing, let me tell you."

After a few moments' struggle, he managed to untangle the edge of his cloak from the pack straps, and tripped off after Kanda.

"Heck, I was even happy to have you nearly pushing me off the cart. How long is it into town again?"

"I've already told you," Kanda said shortly.

His patience had snapped long ago, and Daisya's comment didn't help.

But Daisya did.

"Yeah, yeah, thirteen miles," he said tiredly, nodding his head from side to side with the words. It was a habit of his that only made him look more like a whiny child than he already did.

"Why are you asking, then?" Kanda growled.

"Dunno."

Silence fell, and the two of them walked in step. Kanda in the lead, strides regular, and Daisya staying in his wake. Even on the straight track through the trees, his path still wove and swayed, when he spotted interesting mushrooms or realized that Kanda was getting ahead of him.

When the trees started to thin, and turn to fields, Daisya had his answer.

"Just making sure."

Kanda stopped, and turned to look at him.

"What?"

"I was just asking to make sure."

The stare continued.

"I mean, I knew how far away we were, but you were seeming a bit off. So I made sure you weren't. 'S useless when you're teammate's all zoned out."

After a moment's confusion, Kanda's face seemed to sort itself out.

"I hate you."

"Get in line."

"Finally!"

Daisya was just about ready to kiss the small gatehouse that marked the first sign of civilization. A couple of fences and run-down farmsteads did not a village make, and after 13 miles of it, he was sick of it.

"I bet they're going to have at least _one_ interesting–"

Kanda grabbed Daisya's collar before he could run anywhere, or finish his sentence, for that matter.

"What are Marie's rules?" he asked flatly.

"Don't do anything stupid, don't talk to possible akuma, just look for the Innocence, don't worry about saving lives. I got it."

Kanda grumbled. A couple of months ago, Daisya's recklessness had nearly lost them a mission. It looked like Marie's measures against that happening again might not be completely useless.

"If you break them, I'm not going to save you again."

"Again? Don't tell me you've already saved me. More than once, too."

" _Shut up_."

The air was cold, the ground was cold, the wooden wall of the barn was cold, Daisya was cold, and he supposed even the akuma would have been cold.

"Can you see anything?" he whispered, trying not to pant. Every word sent plumes of vapour into the air.

Kanda shook his head in reply, and ducked back behind the wall. It wasn't much, just railway ties and plaster, but it was still between them and the akuma.

"What made you think that was a good idea?" he hissed.

Kanda must have been cold, too. His skin always felt cold.

Daisya felt his brain dragging him back to the present and handing him an excuse.

"I don't know! It's not like I knew she was an akuma."

Kanda scoffed.

"Yeah, well, you never do. Just don't trust anyone who isn't an exorcist or a finder, okay? Don't even trust the finders. Just don't go out of sight of another exorcist."

Daisya rolled his eyes. It was probably dark enough for Kanda not to see him do it. Probably.

"Okay, okay! Calm down. I think she lost us, any–"

His breath was knocked out of him as Kanda threw him sideways, and the thin barrier collapsed under a hail of bullets.

He tasted the dirt in his mouth, and felt the scraps of rock and twig biting into his skin. A creaking noise sounded overhead – probably the roof starting to collapse, without one of its supports. Hopefully they wouldn't be under it when it hit the ground.

Daisya finally came to a halt, staring up at splintered wood and stars. Kanda's punches were iron.

"Innocence, activate!"

Hearing the yell, he picked himself up, and scrambled out of the way.

From behind a new, flimsier section of the wall, watched Kanda throwing himself forward.

"Guess she didn't," he groaned to himself.

Geez, Kanda was strong. He himself barely had any breath left, even though he couldn't feel much pain.

But goddamn, he was cold. The forest a few metres away felt like it was sucking all the heat from the world to fuel its creaking skeleton, and the stars were burning balls of ice. Between them, the hard, stony earth ran smooth and gleamed in the gunfire like the surface of a frozen puddle.

He squinted up at the two silhouettes, outlined by Mugen's glow. They danced and jumped in circles, Kanda always just barely step ahead. He seemed to be having no fun at all, which was a shame.

Daisya supposed he'd have to join him up there.

For a moment, he let himself breathe, trying to find a balance between the heat in his lungs and the cold of the night. It didn't pay to leap into a battle unprepared, no matter how reckless he seemed. He didn't have the same luxury as Kanda, so he'd need to be careful of the bullets.

 _Wait for it…_

Funny. Kanda had said that he wasn't going to save him this time. Same as all the other times.

 _Wait for it…_

And he'd gone and saved him. Same as all the other times.

 _Wait for it…_

Daisya breathed in and out, watching the cloud form. For some reason now his skin felt hot, and he felt almost sick. Being winded was _not_ fun.

 _Now!_

"Innocence, activate," he muttered, mostly to himself. It seemed to work better if you yelled it, but he was still catching his breath.

His mind sunk into the comfortable ruts of strategy.

Let's see. Or not see. It's pretty dark out. Dunno if she can see me. Anyway, Kanda's got her engaged from the front, so the best I can do is just hit her once. She could dodge, and Kanda's having a pretty hard time, so maybe she's a level two. Anyway, the best bet is to flank her and try and get her off guard.

He steadied himself on his feet. The town was small, dark, and nearly abandoned. Poland was not a happy place. On the plus side, it meant no one was willing to take a look outside. They just thought it was the Russians again.

Daisya took a deep breath, and sprinted around the wooden. wreckage of the barn wall. Avoiding getting splinters was going to be pretty tough, and the ground was hard beneath his feet. It was cold. Just run, run, run!

Kanda must have been just as tired. He never seemed to have much fun.

The structures and trees flashed past, making just the barest texture in the night.

He took another breath of freezing cold air before skidding to a halt beside the akuma, and turning a right angle on his heel.

Ah, goddammit. Now the akuma was turning towards him. And damn, she was ugly.

The markings on her face made her look just like him.

His foot slid into place, and he bent his knees to balance himself before kicking the Charity Bell at the akuma. Time to see if all those synch exercises came in handy. And, well, even if they didn't, Kanda would take care of the akuma if he failed.

Same as every other time.

The Charity Bell soared, and exploded in a halo of fire.

Daisya felt the breath fall in and out of his lungs.

This was life. This was why he was living.


	42. Chapter 42

**And another chapter, because I just wanted to get a decent number of words out. Note: in days past, most people got shoved in either with their travelling party or with other guests into beds, so blanket-stealing was a much more serious and common offense. Also, Daisya has a weird, weird perspective on life. But both you guys and Kanda have figured that out by now.**

It was so cold, it was almost painful.

He had wrapped himself in his coat, but exorcists were used to travelling light. No room for too many extra clothes when you could be walking the whole way with your partner on your back.

And, of course, every time he tried to grab more of the blanket he ran the risk of waking Kanda up a second time. He was pretty sure that he'd be even more cranky than usual if he got woken up after their adventure an hour or so ago.

Even so, Daisya couldn't feel most of his legs, from about the knee down. The fire had long since died, and running around in the freezing air had just made him colder. He wasn't made for cold climates — he was used to it being so hot you could barely breathe. Basically, it sucked. Couldn't fall asleep, couldn't stand staying still, couldn't move. Kanda seemed to have the internal body temperature of a lizard, and Daisya suspected that any attempt to leach some warmth from him would result in a black eye at the very least.

Damn, it really was cold.

He made his breathing quieter for a moment, and tried to gauge if Kanda was still asleep.

His breathing was still regular, at any rate.

Oh, well. If you couldn't sleep you could always go get something to eat, or just find a lantern to keep lit and do something less boring than just lying there and trying not to move too much.

Gingerly, Daisya slipped out of the bed, stepping down silently on the wooden beams of the floor. Which, by the way, were freezing cold. It's pretty difficult to get it off the mind when you can even feel the chill between your ribs.

What a weakling he was. It wasn't even winter yet. He supposed he'd have to start packing a few more clothes.

He padded towards his bag, eyes well accustomed to the dark. Just a few more steps without knocking into anything.

He covered the distance, and crouched down. Behind him, he heard a rustling sound, and froze.

"What are you doing?" Kanda whispered, still managing to make the words sound like a groan of annoyance, "Don't tell me there's _another_ akuma."

Daisya shrugged, and rummaged through the pack.

"Couldn't sleep. Too cold. Sorry I woke you up."

Late at night, he didn't feel like arguing.

"I was already awake. Your breathing was off. Just put on your coat."

"Did that."

Daisya heard a sigh, footsteps on the floor, going towards the door. What could Kanda possibly need to do at this hour?

He risked a look, and saw Kanda grabbing his coat off the hook on the door. He looked a bit worse for wear, with dark circles under his eyes and hair falling into his face.

Daisya caught the coat as he threw it at him. Geez, it was heavy. How could Kanda stand to wear it?

"Just take it," Kanda muttered tiredly, "'n go back to sleep. And don't steal the covers this time."

Daisya straightened the coat, but didn't put it on.

"Sorry. Aren't you cold?"

"No," said Kanda shortly, "I'm used to winter. Just go back to sleep. You're useless when you're tired."

Kanda looked at him for a moment, unreadable, then turned away. After he'd crawled back under the covers, and closed his eyes, Daisya decided not to question the charity.

He pulled Kanda's coat over his own. It was heavy, and warm, and smelled like old, freshly-cleaned clothes.

Once he'd hauled himself back to the bed, with the suspiciously off-white sheets of a backwater inn, and the pillows stuffed with what felt like old rags, Daisya curled up. He'd have to ask for a jacket like this the next time he was at headquarters.

Slowly, as he began to feel his feet again, he drifted off into sleep.

Kanda woke up, and found that both he and Daisya had attempted to steal the same section of the blanket. They had both succeeded.

For a moment, he considered going back to sleep. An hour's head start wouldn't do much, would it?

It was cold outside, after all.

And Daisya was nice and quiet when he was asleep.

He turned over, staring blankly at the growing patch of light on the ground.

At length, Kanda forced himself out of bed and went through the motions. Get hair out of face, comb it as well as possible with the fingers, tie it before Daisya gets the chance to wake up. Wash face, take off extra clothing, straighten shirt, put on boots, attempt to wake up Daisya with as little effort as possible. Shout when Dasiya doesn't respond to open curtains or quiet talking. Grab backpack and drop it on his head when that doesn't work.

"Mmph!"

Daisya sat up violently, and the bag fell on to the floor.

"What was that for?"

Kanda rolled his eyes.

"Waking you up. Get ready. And I need my jacket."

"Yeah, yeah," Daisya groaned, staggering tiredly to his feet, "This thing's pretty heavy, you know. Makes it hard to get up. 'S it made of steel wool, or something?"

"So you'd rather freeze?" Kanda asked dryly.

"Oh, of course not. It's a good coat. Warm. Smells nice."

"Just give me the coat."

Daisya handed it over semi-reluctantly before taking out the safety pin in the bandages around his neck.

"You know," he said, unwinding the strips of cloth, "These things are getting pretty annoying."

"You don't have to wear them."

"Yeah, I do. Still hurts."

"Aren't you taking enough medicine to knock it out?"

As if on cue, Daisya pulled a little too tightly, and winced.

"Nah. They wear off pretty quickly. And you can see what I look like without them."

The strips fell, coiled like snakes.

True enough, now that Daisya had unwound the bandages around his head, the sight was not beautiful. His skin was mottled and red with scarring and inflammation, and his hair stuck out in patches from his scalp.

"You're not bald anymore, though."

"That just makes it look stupid. Whatever. I didn't look great before, so it's not much of a loss."

Kanda recrossed his arms

"Quit whining about it."

"Hah, says you."

"Yeah, says me. Lenalee can tell you, being cute isn't much fun," Kanda muttered darkly.

He knew he was beautiful, or was going to be. Even worse, other people knew it too. Daisya was lucky. No one noticed him.

"I've seen worse," he added, not quite sure why he was saying it.

Not to say that, in a certain light, it would only be a white lie to say that Daisya's eyes lit up. It wouldn't even be a lie to say they burned.

"Oh?"

Kanda was unwelcomely jerked back to the present by Daisya looking at him, his face torn between confusion and dreadful mocking.

" _You're_ feeling nice today."

"Am not. It's a stupid thing to care about."

Daisya resumed wrapping the strip of cloth around his head, looping it around his jaw to tie off.

"In Kanda-ese, that's the same thing as saying I'm fine as is. You said it, not me," he added as Kanda made a face.

Kanda rolled his eyes again.

"Come on. We should find the Innocence before we run into any more akuma."

He turned to leave, grabbing his pack from where it leaned against the wall.

"Hey, Kanda."

Kanda froze, and turned back around in genuine confusion.

"What?"

His voice was a bit sharp. He noticed it, now.

"Thanks."

"Oh."

Kanda was at a loss. Daisya didn't seem to be following his script this week.

"That it?"

Daisya shrugged.

"I guess so."

Kanda turned around again.

"Wait–"

"What?"

There was an edge in Kanda's voice as he turned around.

"You still hate me?"

Daisya's voice seemed to be deliberately light, but it hit Kanda like a mace.

—Had Daisya really bothered to remember that?

Kanda took a leaf out of his companion's book, and shrugged.

"No, not really."

He waved his hand forward, a signal of impatience.

"Come on."

…

Daisya was trying to see how far he could roll his eyes back into his head. They were walking back along the track, over turnstiles and thistles. Things were back to normal.

"You know," Daisya started, bringing his eyes back into focus, "There don't seem to be too many exorcists."

"There aren't," Kanda replied shortly.

"What a surprise. 'S there any way of making more?"

Daisya's tone of voice was too soft for the comment to be anything but deliberate.

"…no."

Kanda quickened his pace by fraction.

"That's a pity. So what do they do when they run out?"

"What does it matter?"

Daisya couldn't help but grin. Kanda was getting pretty easy to push around.

"Oh, just wondering. You got a bit cut up when I mentioned that I didn't mind shuffling off this mortal coil."

"What book did you get _that_ from?" Kanda asked dryly, avoiding the question.

"Forget. The old man used it once, I think. Did they ever _try_ to make more exorcists? It's not like there's anything else they can do."

There were a few moments filled with the sound of footsteps, and Daisya answered his own question.

"Well, if they tried, I'm pretty sure that it didn't work so well. So do they just find accommodators and force them to become exorcists? Lenalee was saying that one of the new guys has a sick kid he needs to take care of back at home."

Daisya waited for a reply, and rolled his eyes. Kanda just couldn't be bothered to share any useful information.

"God, you're noisy today. I guess they do that, then. Lenalee seems a bit scared of things, so maybe that happened to her. Or maybe you, I guess."

He mulled it over, trying to distract himself from the aches in his ankles. He'd done more walking in the past few months than he had in most of his life, and it wasn't too pleasant.

"Yeah, probably," he concluded, "So: you don't like it when people act all reckless, because if they did that means that there's going to be another kid ending up like you. That right?"

By this point he was just talking to himself. Kanda's silence was perhaps a better outcome than his participation.

"Well, I guess you've got a point. That explains why you keep saving everyone even after you say you're not going to."

He frowned in thought, then brightened up.

"How about I just try and do something really hard. Then I'll be ancient and I'll still be trying to do it, even though I'm awesome. Then I'll be too proud to die, and I don't have to put up with you yelling at me. How about that?"

He waited another few seconds for the show of it, but this time Kanda decided to speak.

"Fine."

Kanda sounded tired.

"Okay! Now I just need to decide on something."

"Whatever."

Daisya held a hands out open in front of him, and seemed to consider them.

"I can probably do anything alone if I want to, so it'll have to be something with other people."

He put down two fingers, and then a third.

"Hmm. Marie and Lenalee are pretty nice. They're too simple. The old man's too old. Maybe Kiki, or someone."

For some reason, he found this funny.

"Hah," he chuckled, "How about I try to get a date? That'll be fun, won't it, Kanda?"

"Just hurry up. And be quiet," Kanda added softly.

"I know, I know. I'm pretty cool, so that won't be too much of a challenge."

He paused, one-by-one putting down all his fingers, and curling his hands into fists. In reality, most of the monologue was for Kanda's benefit rather than his own.

He'd already decided what to do, what to say, and why. It was fairly simple.

"I think…" Daisya started, trailing off for effect.

"What?" Kanda asked flatly. He was getting angry again.

"I'm going to get you to tell me about Alma."

Daisya saw Kanda's flinch. There was no way in hell Kanda was ever going to tell him about that.

All the better reason to choose it.

"I'm not going to die until I know what happened. Otherwise I'll get pissed, because I really don't like not knowing things. That sound good?"

He waited for his answer, and the silence dragged on agonizingly before he got it. Kanda had a bit of a gift for it, holding silence above his head and watching him squirm before giving him even his usual one-word answer.

But, in a way, it felt pretty good. Kanda didn't mean anything by it. He didn't expect anything. He just hated indiscriminately, and without any real conviction.

"Fine."

The snippet of sound came forth at last.

"But you're going to die long before you find out anything. It's a stupid choice."

Daisya laughed.

"So long as you stop pestering me about it, that's fine."

"You too," Kanda muttered.

"You've got yourself a deal."

Daisya grinned to himself, and started to hum. His voice still hadn't changed yet from its mid-alto range, but he was growing fast enough for it to be low.

Truth be told, he wasn't really in this for the surviving. Life wasn't worth living if you were just carrying on and on and on and on. He was just going to keep trying to live so long as there was fun to be had. The old man, Kanda, Lenalee, Marie — he had an arsenal of tricks to develop. And a thousand football games to play.

He just didn't want to see the day when Kanda finally carried out his own prediction. This was just a tool to keep everything going as it had been. If Kanda knew he was going to survive anyway, he'd let him do what he wanted. Let him keep living with a foot in his grave.

They both knew he was going to die. Daisya was just pretty sure that when he died, it wasn't going to be with Kanda there watching him.

And truth be told, he did want to find out about Alma.

He had a feeling that the story wouldn't be boring.


	43. Chapter 43

**What the hell is this?**

 **That, I do not know. As usual, please, _please_ read and review. Anything short of straight-up flaming (to use 2009 internet slang) will be useful.**

The usual sound of clinking cutlery and conversation rose over the main hall. For once, Daisya was working away at his lunch alone — he'd given up on finding Kanda after fifteen minutes of checking his usual haunts. On any normal day, he'd have been kicking Daisya's ass in the dojo all morning, but Jeanne had been the one doing it this morning, and she was off with Isaac right now. They were okay, but Daisya didn't know them too well.

At least there was no one to nag him about the stains on his sleeves. Daisya figured that they'd end up dirty anyway, so it wasn't worth keeping them out of the way. It must have been all Kanda's time with the old man that made him so much of a housewife about that stuff. He was 12 years old and he cleaned his room? Of his own free will? Daisya thanked his stars that he was still a kid, even after having to take care of his siblings.

Come to think of it, they'd all have had their birthdays by now. The old man would be telling him to send them another letter, never mind that he'd had to do it every two months since he'd left home. Dear family, Daisya here, having fun without you, and all that jazz. True enough, they were just as boring as always. His brothers had won the three-legged race at the yearly fair, his sister was still crying at every little thing, mom was begging him to come back, and dad was saying it'd been hard without him. Just trying to get back the unpaid babysitter — no thanks. Daisya wasn't about to go back to that any time soon.

Though, from how much his brothers were complaining about his sister, she might be showing some hope of being something interesting. When she learned to blame it on other people, that was when he might go back. And show her who was the _real_ champion here.

It was a testament to how zoned-out he was that he didn't notice the approaching footsteps. Everyone had a different rhythm. This one was quiet, but still firm. His razor-sharp reflexes only worked when he bothered to notice the world around him.

"Get up."

A shadow fell over Daisya, startling him. He groaned, to cover it up, and kept his eyes straight.

"Geez, can't a guy finish his soup in peace?"

Knowing Kanda was standing right behind him tugged at his mind like and itch, but Daisya wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of looking. Instead, he tried to down the rest of the meal in record time. Sooner or later, he was either going to have to get up, or be dragged away.

"Marie's team got back."

Kanda crossed his arms impatiently, and Daisya wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

"That's disgusting."

"It's practical. Why're you asking me to go now? That old guy'll be sticking around for a while."

"Yeah?"

"O' course. Yeager likes him."

Kanda rolled his eyes.

"The old man told me to get you. We should see him now."

"Yeah, when I'm done my lunch."

Kanda looked aside absentmindedly. His movements got sharp and jerky when he was impatient.

"Aren't you bored? Lenalee's gone. No one else puts up with you."

"Nah, not really. I've just had to deal with you for a week or so, you know."

Kanda muttered something under his breath, and walked into view, taking the seat across from Daisya. Hah. Daisya, 1, Kanda, 0.

"Just hurry up, then."

"Yeah, yeah. What's the rush?"

Daisya scraped out the last spoonful, and looked up at Kanda.

"We'll get more out of him if we go now."

"And here you're still waiting for me."

Kanda looked genuinely confused for a moment, before frowning. He wasn't as quick as he seemed — you'd be better off telling Lenalee your puns

"So?"

"You keep telling yourself that."

"Shut up. And don't spray your crumbs everywhere. That's disgusting."

"Yeah, _mom–_ ow!"

"Shut. Up."

…

Kanda scuffed his heel absentmindedly on the floor.

"So, did your team find Cross?"

Marie shook his head.

"No. He doesn't seem to like the Order much," he commented, "We still managed to assess the situation in Japan, though. The Noah are everywhere. It was best not to get involved."

"Mm."

Kanda nodded. He seemed to be paying a lot of attention to the conversation. Hey, maybe even Kanda could be respectful, couldn't he? Probably just to Marie, though. He certainly didn't treat old Tiedoll with much.

"Was General Nine there? Komui was saying she got called in."

Daisya noticed that Kanda's fingers were folding over and over on themselves. Now this _was_ interesting. Marie hadn't been around much since they got back from Hungary a year or so ago, and back then Daisya hadn't known either of them well enough to pay attention.

"Yes. She isn't needed yet, but she's staying there in case the Earl tries to make a move."

Kanda let out a sound that was almost a chuckle.

"So is she really good at fighting, or something?" Daisya asked, butting into the conversation, "I thought the generals just had high sync rates, or something."

Kanda let out a sigh of annoyance, and looked to Marie.

"The better your sync rate, the better you fight," Marie said shortly, "Because her Innocence is sentient, General Nine is likely the most skilled of the Generals."

"Oh. Cool."

"In any case, we are prepared for the worst. It's difficult to enter or leave Japan, making it the ideal stronghold."

Kanda nodded.

"But he hasn't moved yet?"

"No."

He nodded again, almost to himself, and once to Marie. This was the — happy wasn't really the word, but Daisya couldn't be bothered to find an alternative — the happiest Kanda had been in months.

"Good."

Kanda turned to leave, and dragged Daisya behind him by the collar.

"Hey!"

"Be quiet!"

…

"What was that for?" Daisya hissed, "I wasn't even talking."

"He's tired."

They skittered back down the stairs, to the lower levels, Kanda in the lead.

"What was the hurry to see him then? Better to let him sleep, or something."

"People don't control themselves as much when they're tired," stated Kanda bluntly, "He told us more now than he would have later."

"Just asking," muttered Daisya.

"Tch."

Kanda's pace slowed for a moment, once they reached ground level, before he started dawdling towards the training rooms. He didn't seem to sure about it, though, so Daisya figured he might be open to suggestion.

"Hey, you want to play football or something? I'll go easy on you."

Kanda's fingers clenched ever so slightly. Hey, there was always hope.

Daisya watched carefully.

Kanda lifted a hand, and brushed his bangs aside.

"You don't have to go easy," he said tersely, "I'll beat you anyway."

…

"Hah," Daisya panted, collapsing against the wall, "That was pretty good, don't you think?"

Kanda shrugged and scowled as he caught his breath more quietly.

"Not really."

"Oh, come on! You actually made me break a sweat, this time. Maybe one day you'll be able to tie it up."

Kanda scowled again, and shook his head in annoyance.

"See? You know you like it. It's a good game."

"Maybe for an imbecile."

"Yup."

Daisya picked up his discarded coat — though this most recent version was more of a cloak, long, with a hood and no sleeves — and rummaged through it to find the pockets.

"Hmm. If I was a pocket, where would I be…" he mumbled, partly to fill the silence, "Ah, here."

He grabbed the drawstring bag that followed him everywhere, and emptied a couple of white tablets into his hand. He hadn't felt too much pain in a while, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

"Shouldn't you have healed by now?" asked Kanda, watching him carefully.

Daisya raised an eyebrow. _That_ was new.

"You wanna have another look? It's still pretty ugly-looking, let me tell you. It hasn't changed."

There was a moment where they both hovered, balancing on each side of an argument, before the ball fell in Daisya's court.

"If you say so," muttered Kanda, "Are you practicing your fighting?"

Daisya let Kanda change the topic, and nodded his head.

"Yeah, _mom_."

Kanda glared at him.

"Do you _want_ me to go back to training you?"

"No, no, I'm good. Perfectly fine."

"Then shut up."

"You asked."

"Yeah, and now I'm asking you to be quiet."

Kanda paused for a few seconds.

"I did ask, I guess," he said grudgingly.

Daisya leaned back, and grinned. The patch of ground where the goals were was south-facing, so the brick wall was always warm.

The warm feeling was suspiciously strong today, so he decided to get out of there.

He leaned over, gave Kanda a quick kiss on the cheek, and ran off. Kanda hadn't caught him yet, and Daisya was pretty confident that he'd have to sharpen his reflexes before he even got close.

…

This time, Kanda reached out with open fingers instead of a closed fist.

He'd felt this twisting in his chest before.

Too late.

He let his fingers brush the air where Daisya's wrist had been a fraction of a second ago.

Damn kid ran too fast.


	44. Chapter 44

**I think this'll be the last of the 'laying railroad tracks under feet as i run along' section - though just about all of this is pre-typed, the two or so stories after this are more fleshed out (in my head at least). This entire arc (it'll probably just be this chapter and the next) came about purely because I was listening to one song by (I think?) Two Steps From Hell and had a scene very vividly imagined to it. Unfortunately that scene was the equivalent of like 5 minutes of real-story-time. Oh well. The rest is all just extraneous nonsense, as usual.**

 **Thanks so much (again and again) to the reviewers! I know I tend to passive-aggressively ask for feedback, but it is really incredibly useful to know how each chapter comes across.**

 **The song Daisya sings is just a folk song I learned when I was a kid, which I decided to work in because I love it and this entire fic is just one bit work of self-indulgence. It can be slow or fast, haunting or lively. This one is a good version (** **watch?v=ZXAi8BL4BYU)**

 **Anyhow, here we go.**

"Got anything yet?" Daisya asked, tapping his feet on the ground. He felt a bit smug about it — the chairs were high, but his growth spurt had come quicker to him than to most kids his age. Kanda's feet still dangled above the ground even on the short benches at Headquarters.

The finder fiddling with the telephone contraption — was it Marina? Marietta? Something Italian, anyhow — shook her head. She didn't look too interesting. Most of the finders didn't, and they all more or less looked the same. Not too tall, either stringy or plump, and nervous. They hunched over a bit, and shook, like the trees in the rocks at home whenever a breeze blew up. Kanda was saying that they did kick the bucket pretty quickly after joining up, so he couldn't blame them.

"Not yet—"

Maria's — that was her name — hand jumped slightly as the line crackled.

They sat by the telephone in the corner, Maria hunched over to fiddle with the dials. Golems were sometimes unreliable, depending on how close they were to their owners, so the Order had been trying out different ways of communication between teams. So far, this seemed to be the best. A golem was kept on the Order's end of the line, repeating data, so that whenever any exorcist called they'd get a quick update.

Gingerly, Maria held the phone up to her ear, and listened for the words hidden under all the static. Daisya also cocked an ear, as the sound filtered out.

"Croatia team…three more akuma spotted. Bulgaria team…possibility of Noah activity. Act with caution. Bosnia team…no change. Bohemia…"

The finder hung up the phone. Daisya might have expected her to be relieved, what with nothing much happening on their mission, but instead her face was drawn as ever. On the trip over here, she'd mostly kept to herself. Daisya guessed that she'd been here longer than most, like Marie.

"There's nothing," she said quietly, "But I suppose you heard that. If we can get this over with quickly, we can get to Bulgaria in a few days for backup."

She pulled a chair out from the table, both worn grey by years of use. The innkeeper seemed to like that colour enough to leave most of the furnishings that way. The walls were wooden planking and stone blocks, and the floor was shale and leftover planking over soil. Good old grey. You couldn't find a more boring colour if you tried.

"Yeah, yeah," Daisya said, speaking around a mouthful of bread, "You got a friend there?"

He started to tap the edge of the table, sticking one finger out to tap, then folding it in and moving to the next one. He seemed to be more concentrated on that than on the conversation.

Maria's eyes narrowed by a fraction of an inch.

"Why are you asking?"

Daisya shrugged, and swallowed hurriedly. Maria was now giving off the same aura Marie did when he was annoyed. Which wasn't as often as Kanda, but definitely worse.

"Dunno. You don't seem to be having fun."

Maria tore herself a chunk off of the loaf in the centre of the table.

"Really."

…

The day was bright, and mercifully free of revolutionary gunshots. They'd run into a skirmish between Slavic nationalists and some sort of military force a few days back — they hadn't stuck around long enough to find out who. Could've been the Germans, could've been the Magyars, could've been any number of Ottomans. He'd been considering signing up the army back home, when he was old enough, but now he'd found the Black Order. The old man was better than come crusty major, and a bell was better than a rifle.

Was that what Maria had thought when she joined up? Probably no one knew. _She_ certainly wouldn't have said much about it.

Daisya took his opportunity to fill the silence with sound. Maria didn't talk much, but she didn't seem to mind noise.

The trees were tangled with bushes on either side of the path, and the sun hung straight overhead, blazing a halo around itself. It put Daisya in mind of the bell on the end of his hood.

It was too late in the year for birdsong, and so Daisya made his own contribution. The song Jeanne had taught him came out in a low alto, stumbling here and there.

"V'la l'bon vent, v'la l'joli vent, v'la l'bon vent, mamie m'appelle, v'la l'bon vent, v'la l'joli vent, v'la l'bon vent, mamie m'attend…"

The song hopped along under his breath as he crushed dry leaves beneath his boots.

Y'know, he sort of missed the other exorcists. Finders were all right, but they were all the same, and they only lasted a few months, apparently. Boring. All the exorcists had survived way too much to be boring.

The old man hadn't been back in a while, either.

"…trois beaux canards s'en vont baignant…"

Actually, it had been just him, and Kanda, and Lenalee ever since they'd got back from Poland. Though, Marie and the old man were back now from the Asian Branch, so they'd be around a lot more.

The wind had shifted now, blowing warmer though the forest and picking up the red-and-gold leaves. The warmth of summer was fading fast.

He felt really…hungry when there was just another scaredy finder. He wanted something other than the weak, watery tension of awkwardness and anxiety.

Eh, whatever. At least he was having fun.

He breathed in sharply, then out. Yeah, he felt hungry, but he still felt something burning, without any pain. The pills were great for that. Mostly. Kanda's training sessions still packed a punch, but the painkillers took away any distractions. The thing burning wasn't on his skin.

Sun and moon above, bell below, flames in between.

He loved it like this.

"…oh fils du roi, tu es méchant d'avoir tué mon canard blanc…"

…

"I think we might want hurry up," Maria said softly, holding the golem above her shoulder, "They called in the Croatia team for reinforcements."

Daisya stopped humming, and turned back to look. Still the same expression as always. The forest had shifted slightly, fading into mixed evergreens and oak.

"Who's that again?"

"Hansi. And one of the twins."

Daisya whistled, and grinned sardonically.

"Well, they're all going to be useless against a Noah, anyway. The old man says even _he_ can barely handle them."

Maria's slow and measured pace had sped up, taking her past Daisya.

"Yes. That's why we need to hurry."

Daisya planted a foot carefully in a stack of dried leaves near the roadside, relishing in the crunching noise they made before catching up.

"And you've got a friend over there, haven't you?"

Maria decided to return the shot this time. She seemed to be getting fed up. They all did, after a while.

"I believe you also have one in the Croatia team. You should be concerned."

Daisya frowned slightly, and kicked a pebble up the road. Ew. There were more evergreens up ahead, and the bright colours were fading. Then he grinned.

"You mean Kanda?" he asked, "Nah, he's way too annoying. And he's stuck up."

"Mm."

Maria managed to convey annoyance, weariness, and doubt in a single sound. She really was a lot like Marie. When she got fed up, at least.

"We should get going."

Daisya nodded absently,

"O-kay– hey, wait up!"

Maria lengthened her strides yet again, leaving Daisya in her wake. Damn adults. Their legs were far too long.

Daisya took a breath of the air that still smelled of dead leaves, and started to run. He'd played enough soccer to keep up a good run. Maria was not going to win this round of pettiness, at least.

Though maybe he was just looking for something to fight against.

He worked his way past her into a slow jogging rhythm, keeping ahead of Maria, but mimicking her pace.

Yeah, it had been a while since he'd had much fun. Boring old Marie was miles above most finders when it came to fun. He taught them all useful things, and played music, and got fed up waaay more easily now that he knew Daisya for a brat. Maria was okay, though. She was starting to lose patience after only a couple of weeks.

Even the Innocence was boring. It didn't even put up a fight. Well, sure, the ghost had been a bit tetchy, but compared to Kanda it was a walk in the park to convince him of something. The akuma were what made things interesting.

It might have been just him, but the frail branches of the trees seemed to be clawing at the sky now. Ooh. Really menacing.

Suddenly, Daisya skidded to a halt. Maria. It would be rude to leave her behind.

Quickly, he doubled back to her side, averting his eyes from the road forward. It was getting colder, and the wind was blowing against them.

Funny. Why'd he do that?

He skipped to a halt, facing her, and started to trot backwards.

"Come _on_ ," he said, "Didn't you say we should hurry?"

"We are hurrying," replied Maria, impassive. "Don't worry, I'll be fine even without a brat watching me."

Hey, that was rude! That settled it. If she was going to be in a bad mood, Daisya wasn't they guy to stop her by force.

He ran back ahead along the dirt path, watching the trees grow darker and sharper against the bright blue sky. He hated when the old man stopped just to draw something or say it was pretty, but this was beautiful, but it was sort of nice. He liked the more jagged shapes of conifers, even if they didn't have the lovely leaves of normal trees.

Something compelled him to pause. There was a nice pile of leaves beside the road. He should go crunch them.

Quickly, he looked over, nearly stumbling over a root as he did.

No leaves.

Daisya stood stock still, shivering slightly as the cool headwind leached the warmth from him. Not cool. Bitingly cold.

What leaves?

Up ahead, the forest closed over the path, blocking out the sun.

Why had he stopped?

Maria. Shouldn't leave her behind.

He ran back again, dragging his feet over the earth, and felt something lift off of his shoulders.

Yes, that was right. He should go back. Should just go home.

He stopped again, and tried to turn his head back to look at the path, but a gust of wind stung his cheek as he did.

Why was he feeling homesick now? He hadn't thought about it in months. Apart from a letter every two months, he had nothing to do with it.

Suddenly, the sky seemed to brighten, and the wind died down.

Innocence. That was it.

He came to a halt, and turned back forward again to fall in step with Maria.

"You are energetic," she said flatly, "Are you that worried about your friend?"

Daisya grumbled something under his breath — in Turkish, not anything Maria would know — then spoke up.

"Just give it a couple of seconds."

"Give what a couple of seconds?" Maria asked, looking down at him with a new expression.

Daisya felt his feet grow heavy, dragging him down.

"That."

They both stopped, and now that Daisya noticed it, he felt a weight in his chest.

Not just the feeling of being tired of being beaten by Kanda for the umpteenth time (he swore someday he'd beat him, just like Lenalee had). Something dumb and emotional.

The sun dimmed, and they sky turned the dull grey-white of a day neither sunny nor rainy. Not one thing nor the other, just plain and heavy. Grey trees, grey earth, grey skies, grey stone.

Daisya wanted to go home. He missed his family. He missed the bright blue ocean. He missed the trees. Those damn, pathetic, drought-stricken trees. His stupid brothers, and whiny sister. The stupid tourist trinkets, the gewgaws in all their colours.

He—

A breath caught in his throat, and stayed there.

He _hated_ that place.

Maria turned around, walked back, and Daisya _chose_ to lift one foot, plant it behind him, turn, and follow.

"Hey, Maria, why'd you stop?" he asked mockingly, tugging at her coat, "Didn't you want to help out?"

Maria paused for a second time, and looked down at him.

"So you weren't actually that excited," she said dryly, "Something made you."

"Yeah," Daisya continued, "That's what I thought. D'you think it's Innocence?"

Maria's eyes narrowed, as they did when she was thinking.

"There's nothing else it could be, besides a Noah."

"Then how're you sure it's not a Noah? What do they even do, anyway?"

Daisya placed his hands on his hips, and tapped his foot in mock impatience.

"It's simple," replied Maria, "If it are a Noah, we would be dead."

"That's depressing."

"That's irrelevant. You should try activating your Innocence. It should grant you some sort of immunity. At the very least, it will be insurance against akuma."

Daisya gave her a mock salute.

"Yep. Give me a second."

He whipped around in a circle, letting the force of the motion rip the Charity Bell from his hood.

"Innocence, activate!"

The trees looked fairly calm in the autumn afternoon, and Daisya took mental stock.

Randomized guilt: 5% of maximum

Homesickness: 0.8% of maximum

Regret: 1% of maximum

Sense of Duty: 0.9% of maximum

He started to jog, letting the bell hop from foot to foot. Say what you will, it's always time for football practice.

Towards the barrier, he noticed the trees start to shift again. Definitely Innocence. It got into your mind, and worked you from the inside out.

Time to jump. What with dodging Lenalee in training, he'd had plenty of experience with those.

A few seconds later, a leap landed him far over the invisible boundary. Already, it felt as if something was pushing him backwards.

Randomized guilt: 12% and rising

Homesickness: 10% and rising

Regret: 9% and rising

Sense of Duty: 6% and rising

But there was no way he was going to go back.

"Hey, looks like it's working!" he shouted back to Maria, still standing there in her canvas cloak.

He saw her nod.

"Find the Innocence," she called calmly in reply, "I'll watch for akuma."

"You sure?"

"Yes," she called impatiently, "Now hurry up!"

"All right, all right."

Daisya turned around, and faced the path. The Innocence could be anywhere.

He grinned. Now _this_ was fun.

He took a breath, and slowly, deliberately started to run against the ever-growing wind.

…

The sky had become mostly violet, fading to yellow, when Daisya's footsteps started to drag.

Finding the Innocence was harder that it looked, because you had to go the direction that you didn't want to go, and that took effort. The more your feet felt heavy, the more you had to push on. The Innocence must have been really strong, to have this much of an effect.

And to make it worse, Daisya wasn't even sure that things worked properly in here. He hadn't heard any of he birds that hopped along in the trees, or seen the squirrels that liked to steal any food they could get their hands on. Even the trees seemed to be running out. It felt more like home, now, with a hard, rocky soil and a few bushes.

Daisya took a heavy breath, and stopped. He felt like he was at another crossroads, so he started to turn around clockwise, gauging how much he wanted to walk in a direction against the instantaneous feeling of randomized guilt.

What directions were there?

The forest felt inviting, as did the plains going off to the north.

So Daisya turned, and stopped turning as he faced a rocky uprising in the landscape.

It looked like someone had just randomly decided to drop a mountain range on the map. A bunch of rocks were piled up near the front, forming a sort of wall with only a few cracks through it. It did _not_ look like a nice place to visit.

Obviously, it was the place to go. Daisya just wanted to grab the Innocence, and get this over with.

…

The last of the akuma fell in shreds.

"Looks like we weren't the first ones here," the finder muttered. "Do you want to have a look at this?"

The forest was starting to grow darker as the sun set, but Kanda hadn't bothered to stop walking. This finder was lazy, but there was a town about half an hour away, where they could rest.

Until then, they had work to do.

He sighed, sheathed Mugen, and walked to where the finder was standing, above a pile of equipment, the standard-issue canvas cloak given to finders, and a pile of dust.

"Do you think they were already on this mission?" the finder asked nervously. He was still a kid, and a coward to be taking orders from a child years his junior.

"Doesn't look like it. There were two or three exorcists on the Bulgaria team, and they should be days away from here."

Kanda had already drawn his conclusion as to the identity of the dust, but he couldn't decide what to do with it yet.

"Maybe they were also reinforcements? Didn't the Bosnia team say they'd be heading over once they'd finished? They might still have been here."

Kanda had already started to look around. His eyesight was pretty good, but it was dark, and there was no sign of any human life. Or a specific human life, for that matter.

"Yeah, but where's the exorcist?" he retorted. "They last longer than finders."

Damn. They couldn't afford to get sidetracked, but you couldn't trust Daisya as far as you could throw him, when it came to acting smart.

The finder shrugged.

"Maybe he just ran off."

"Wrong."

"Well, I don't know–"

"I do. He's somewhere around here. Probably not far."

The wind rustled the fallen leaves of autumn, and the ink-black spruce reaching up above them.


	45. Chapter 45

**¯\\_(ツ)_/¯**

"Why did you leave?"

Daisya couldn't for the life of him remember how he came to be standing in front of his little sister.

He had walked in through the crack, trying to get past the rocks, when the sky had turned silver. Even now, it was shining like a mirror. There was something holding him back, freezing him in place, but not something static. It was a wind that blew around him, somehow hemming him in from all directions and whipping at his bandages. Now, they wove in the air around him like snakes, half covering his eyes and his ears as he held the Charity Bell in one hand and fixed the other one around his wrist. He couldn't let go. He could not let go.

"Why?"

Daisya didn't look down at her. His hood had blown off, and the tail of it was flapping behind him. They'd nearly taken his Charity Bell.

His sister tugged at his cloak, and looked up at him with a tearful expression. A few feet off, their mother stood with arms crossed and a disapproving expression on her face.

"You should come back home."

He'd worked his way through the forest, testing the Innocence. Each direction seemed to hold a different potential; every time he'd chosen his path, the mountains had been the ones that raised the hairs on the back of his neck and made him stop in his track. So of course he'd slowly made his way towards them, zigzagging through the forest, then over a small field to the base of this foothill.

"You don't know what happened to us," his brothers piped up, "We nearly starved."

They spoke in perfect unison. He didn't know where they came from, either. His heart was starting to beat faster again, tugging him away from them.

There was a small cleft in the hillside, covered by rock. When Daisya had ducked under to look, the ground had given way, dropping him under. When he'd hit the rock beneath, he'd tumbled forward, and staggered out into an opening. From above, the light came though, and hit flat grey stone cut through by a creek. Opposite Daisya, a silver tree stretched out of the bare rock.

He couldn't remember much after that.

Another tug on his cloak made him stagger back, and then it was Lenalee standing there.

"Why did you abandon your family?" she asked, "Did you like us better?"

No, no, that wasn't it—

Kanda, standing behind her, glowered at Daisya.

"Don't bother answering. You can't stay here.

"Now, they both seemed to speak with the same voice.

We don't like you."

Hah, was all Daisya could think. I could've told you that.

The images shifted before his eyes. Marie, then the old man, then someone tall whose face he couldn't make out. They writhed, and collapsed.

"Please, come back home."

Daisya's father spoke last, and wearily, as if disappointed.

There was something wrong here, Daisya thought through the haze. Something wrong. But what was it?

His mother, his father, his sister…they were all normal. His brothers, too. And who knew what Lenalee thought?

Something was wrong, something was wrong.

"Don't bother staying…"

"Please, come back."

"Go home."

"Come home."

Daisya was standing in the middle of the forest. There was nothing but forest for miles, around here.

But when Kanda ran close enough to him, the landscape warped.

Daisya was clutching his Innocence in his hands, and staring up at the mountains and a silver sky. His bandages hung in the air around him, as if blown by an intangible storm.

Beneath them, the scars knit together to form a mottled pattern, evidence of the coals that scorched there.

Kanda tried to take a step.

He was frozen to the ground.

"Go home.

"Go home.

"Please come home.

"Don't stay."

The cacophony of voices was deafening, and Daisya couldn't do anything but stare at the seven figures crowding him, closing in on him as the wind whipped a storm around his head.

Louder than everything was the voice of his sister.

"Why did you leave us? Come home…"

And beneath it, another litany took precedence.

"Don't stay with us. Go home."

Kanda.

There was something wrong.

Why was Kanda saying that?

The storm grew louder, but at the same time gave Daisya a window of quietude to think in.

Quick — what's wrong with Kanda?

What do we know about Kanda?

Kanda. Short. Pretty. Likes his hair tie. Likes Marie. Likes Lenalee.

Kanda couldn't care less if the finders died.

Kanda cares if the exorcists die.

Kanda doesn't care about people, but he doesn't want the exorcists to die.

He's weird like that. He's a big old meanie, but he wants the exorcists alive and working.

Hurry up — what about me?

Kanda said he wasn't going to save me.

Kanda said he'd kill me if I was going to die.

Kanda wants the exorcists alive.

 _Kanda…_

…

For a single moment, time unfroze, and Kanda could move again. The dream had faltered.

That was all he needed.

" _Mugen, unsheath!_ "

…

Daisya fell to his knees as the noise redoubled, clapping his hands over his ears at the pain that drilled into his head.

I should go home. I don't belong, I need to go home. Go home. _I want to go home…_

Something screamed though the air, and Daisya's head jerked up as if pulled by a string.

Through his blurry vision and shaking breaths, he could see something ripping through the seven spectres.

The mirror broke, and the sky shattered in pieces.

Black started to swoop over Daisya, leaving him time for one last thought.

 _I hate that place._

…

Kanda's feet scrabbled across the rock as he slid, grabbing the front Daisya's collar before he redoubled his speed, dragging the body out of the pile of debris slowly building up around him. After a moment's struggle, he swung up and over his shoulders in a fireman's lift. The entrance to this open cavern was blocked, but it gave way when Kanda, turning a shoulder forwards, rammed through it. Shards of stone scratched at his face, and dust burned his eyes. Daisya would be coming out of this a bit worse for wear, though his own wounds would heal quickly.

Emerging from the tunnel, the landscape Kanda remembered had changed in the time they'd been trapped. The hills that had gradually sloped upwards crumbled, some leaving a narrow path, some falling into the bubbling current of the deep-cut river that seemed to underscore the plain. He'd heard of Innocence protecting himself but - but nothing like this. Now that they'd escaped, it should have quieted down.

Instead–

The feeling of weightlessness his Kanda like a punch between the ribs. Beneath his feet, the earth crumbled and gave way, giving him just a few seconds to jump out of the way.

He could survive this, easy, if he was alone. But with a hundred-pound weight — strike that, hundred and five — on his back, the chances of them both getting out unscathed were smaller. Dragging Marie around was fine on flat ground at a walk, but even a light burden like Daisya would slow him down with these stakes.

He caught his footing again, and his muscles kicked into action. If he kept his momentum up, it would give just a few extra seconds of lift to his jumps.

He'd need them.

–it was trying to kill them.

…

Kanda's limbs burned as he ran, trying to outpace the crumbling rock.

In the few seconds of thought he could spare, he wondered if it was this was enough to keep away the finders, and to generate the illusion of flat ground around both him and Daisya, while still leading them along the narrow strips of solid ground.

This could also be an illusion. No, it was an illusion. Something like this would have eroded the ground to nothing ages ago, drawing together to make a single river.

Probably.

Kanda didn't want to risk it.

He leapt sideways as another crack started to open up beneath his feet. Daisya _had_ to be stone cold passed out right now, didn't he? Why couldn't it be just one of his pranks?

And he just had to be the one to try and do this alone in the first place.

Daisya was a problem.

He looked ahead, and tried to figure out the fastest route back to where he came from. He thought he'd remember the path, but now he was less sure. He could swing right, and head diagonally through the grasslands and into the forest, towards the road. That was fastest, if this was actually the landscape he remembered. If this was an illusion, then he was fucked either way.

A few pebbles slid beneath his feet, and he skidded along the grass, jumping off to avoid tripping. He landed heavily on his right foot, and pushed off to skirt a hole that had opened up beneath him.

After the half-hour of running through this changing maze, he didn't know how much more he could take. If Daisya didn't wake up soon…

And this wasn't Innocence activity, he'd decided. This was something twisted. Maybe the Heart, but maybe something else. Something like what the General had described to him back in Hungary.

Noah.

If that were the case, he was as good as dead. The Daisya he was carrying might not even be Daisya. The Noah might be anywhere, doing anything, being anything. He would be insignificant. The Innocence would have been a trap, if there even was one.

Sweat dripped down his hairline, and he stopped for a moment to catch his breath and slow his pulse.

That was a mistake.

Willing himself back into a run, he glanced around him. To his left, the grassland stretched on for a bit before meeting the trees; to the right, the forest was closer, maybe ten minutes' run away, at most.

The trees, at least, would be a change of scene.

He turned right sharply, and tried to forget the pain.

At his shoulder, a pair of eyes blinked open.

…

It took a minute for Daisya to fully wake up, and when he did, he wished he hadn't. It felt like he was in an old farm cart jolting over as many potholes as the driver could find.

He shut his eyes tight, then opened them again, looking around. Or looking at ground. Same thing, basically. Something was carrying him. And, if his senses were all intact, that something was a human. Someone's bony shoulder was poking into his chest, and one arm each (those were bony, too) hooked around his knee and elbow kept him from falling off.

Daisya's heart nearly stopped when a crevasse split the ground beneath them.

Thankfully, he wasn't the only one who reacted quickly. His carrier had stumbled for a moment, but managed to get a grip on the air. They leapt over it easily, recovering his footing even with the extra weight on his shoulders. They were fast. Fast, bony…come to think of it, the ground seemed to be a little close as well. Short. Whoever it was had to be stronger than any normal human.

Which meant…

"Kanda?"

His carrier skidded for a moment, knocking the breath out of Daisya, before balancing and continuing the pace.

"What is it?" Kanda shouted through gritted teeth. Man, he seemed angry.

Then again, he was running from a really powerful illusion-creating, reality-warping thingamajig of divine origin. With Daisya on his back. He had some reason.

"Can you put me down?"

"Only if I don't stop running."

Daisya thought for a moment, and tried to gauge his own balancing skills.

"Tell you what, could you hold on to my right wrist with your left hand when I count to three?"

"What–"

"I'll have to step on your right shoulder a bit, but I think I'll be fine. Okay, one, two, three…"

Daisya heaved himself up, planted his foot on Kanda's shoulder, and leapt off him in the space of a second. He was quite proud of the manoeuvre himself. Kanda's grip on his wrist pulled him forwards, and he hit the ground running.

"I hate you," Kanda muttered.

"Oh, that's mean," Daisya retorted, laughing. "Do you know what happened? I can't remember much."

"No. Just shut up. This probably isn't even real, but I'm not taking a chance."

Man, Kanda was angry. Not even happy angry. Just angry.

 _"You don't belong…"_

The crowbar of recognition pried open the door of fatigue, and Daisya stumbled.

What had happened? Why had some Innocence been able to do something that powerful?

Something about it felt like the town back in Hungary.

"Daisya, hurry up!"

Kanda tugged at Daisya's wrist as they passed into the forest. The tamping sound of shoes on soil and dry grass was replaced by crunching leaves and snapping branches.

A cut landed on Daisya's cheek, narrowly missing his eyes.

"Kanda! I think I remember what happened," he shouted against the wind that had whipped up around them.

"What? Is that important right now?"

"Yeah, I think–"

Daisya's reply cut off as the ground disappeared beneath their feet.

In midair, time seemed to stop. So there _had_ been a bit of a canyon, where the river dropped down to run along the side of the forest.

Daisya barely had time to think, even so.

" _Innocence, activate!_ "

The Charity Bell flew through the air, and this side of the rock bluff started to crumble, falling and turning first to sand, then to dust.

…

Kanda just enough time to react.

They were falling. A din was ringing out in his ears, but he could just make out the collapse of the cliffside, and the oddly neutral expression on Daisya's face. Not a grin, but just a slight frown, as if in concentration. He seemed to be staring past Kanda, not even noticing him.

Funny. Normally Daisya seemed to laugh in the face of—

—danger.

Daisya had tightened his grip, and beneath Kanda, had almost protectively curled around him.

It took a second for his reflexes to kick in, but there was still time.

He pulled Daisya in, reversing their position, and hit the ground first.

The loose dirt was softer than rock; still, it was more than enough to splinter his ribs.

But Daisya didn't need to know that.

…

Some hours later, a girl of about twelve hopped along the bluff, skirted the Innocence she'd hidden, and the corners of her mouth turned down.

"Aw," she whined, wringing her hands around her umbrella, "Don't tell me someone else got here first."

"Well, I don't think it was the circus," the umbrella answered anxiously, "But, uh, you never know."

The girl looked even more disappointed than before.

"No, you're probably right."

She started swinging the umbrella around in circles.

"And now Tyki's going to be all smug about my traps not working. That really sucks."

"Yes, mistress, very much."

The girl skipped, despite her downcast face, and hummed a tune that scraped across the nerves like the bow of a violin.

…

"No."

Daisya's hand froze, about to knock on Kanda's door.

"Just wondering if you were doin' anything," he muttered, "And how'd you know it was me?"

"One, you make too much noise, two, you're one of about five people who come up here to bother me, and three, you're the only one with that accent."

Daisya leaned against the door, and tapped his fingers on it.

"Yeah, whatever," he said softly, "Well? You doing anything or not?"

"What would I be doing?"

"Beats me. Playing solitaire?"

Daiysa heard a sigh of annoyance, and promptly fell over as the door opened into him.

"What were you _doing_?"

Daisya winced, and looked up into Kanda's sullen face. He'd already closed the door behind him, but Daisya was prepared to bet money that there was a game of solitaire underway inside the room.

"I was just standing there. Got a problem?"

"Yeah."

"And that is?"

"You were standing there."

Daisya pulled himself to his feet.

"Sor-ry. Hey, you look pretty good, considering you just fell off a cliff."

"It was nine metres. I'm not that weak."

Kanda's eyes were shifting sideways. He wasn't feeling too well. Hell, he hadn't even tried to blame it on Daisya.

Now was probably a bad time to bother him, then, if Daisya wanted to come out of this without any unnecessary pain.

"Well, thanks, anyway," he said simply.

Kanda looked at him suspiciously.

"For, uh, taking the fall. As it were. I've got some painkillers if you want them."

Daisya opened his hand and held it out, showing a small glass vial of tablets.

Kanda just looked blank.

Man, he was acting really weirdly.

"I'm starving, so see ya later."

Daisya tossed the vial to Kanda, who caught it reflexively, and turned to walk away.

"Daisya–"

The shred of sound caused Daisya to whip back around. He was more tense than he should be. Heck, even his heart rate was going up. Kanda was pretty scary.

He was just lying to himself by now, and he knew it.

"What?"

"Your shoes are covered in mud. Quit tracking it all over the place."

Daisya grinned.

"Have fun cleaning it up."

He didn't see the look of indignant rage on Kanda's face, having turned to run before Kanda could retaliate.

Even if he hadn't turned, he wouldn't have seen it.

It wasn't there.

Kanda's fingers closed around the vial, hard enough to make his knuckles whiten.

That damn Daisya.

Why did he always try to have the last word?


	46. Chapter 46

**Extreme artistic license taken with geography, here. I just took the first name starting with 'B' that came to mind, and went with it. Also this is short and sparse, so hopefully the dialogue makes up for the pacing.**

Some days' walk from Bratislava, people had been disappearing at random for at least a century.

No one paid it much mind, and the disappearances had been spread around, so it had taken a while for it to get on the finders' radar. After all, the sons and daughter of the countryside all griped and swore that they'd find their way to Vienna some day. Even if they left what little they had behind, it was easy to assume they'd stolen away for a fresh start. Only when a finder, on his way to the Ukrainian Carpathians, disappeared did the Order pay attention. All finders were required to check in at least once a week with the Order; the more frequently, the better. Extensions were only granted in more remote stretches of Lapland, or in any active war zones.

The finder called Henrik had been off the grid for a month, when a team was sent to check for him. After that, it had taken them a while to get the location of the Innocence. There were no akuma at the source, and no historical records to point to its location.

Some days' walk from Bratislava, the bell of an abandoned abbey still rang, too quietly for anyone nearby to hear, but loud enough to sound through the building, vibrating through the mouldering stone. Block by block, it crumbled, built with too much wood in the skeleton, used as a fortress and burnt down by rival factions too many times.

It wasn't even a proper abbey, but an old dark-age edifice that once held an order of monks, long before. Half-castle, half-church, its black outline bit a chunk out of the customarily grey skies, rising above the teeth of the spruces.

It was not a friendly place.

The finder from the team who had entered beneath the gothic arches of the doorway had thought that, and had been right.

Approximately ten minutes later, he had turned to hear the bell tolling two o' clock in the afternoon.

Approximately ten seconds later, he was dead, the victim of a tragic accident involving an ill-supported stone in the arches overhead.

Two days later, his three companions met similar, yet individually unique fates. One had her head crushed in. One felt his shattered ribs digging into his lungs in the moments before he died. The third went more slowly; unable to withstand the pain of two broken legs, and unable to call for help, he used his emergency kit. It included a needle, thread, some painkillers, a flint and tinder, some gauze, and, most importantly, a razor and whetstone.

By the time the abbey was determined to be the source of the Innocence, the dull towns, with their dull grey skies and their rain, had claimed more finders in an investigation than were lost in most missions.

And so, in a stroke of military genius which, at face value, paralleled Napoleon's invasion of Russia, a pair of fourteen-year-olds were sent out to deal with the problem.

This decision was not nearly so stupid as it seemed. These two children had survived far more than most of the adults in their place, and were far more expendable than the adults whose experience rivalled theirs.

...

It was raining. Again.

The road was basically one big, rutted stream of mud. Even beneath the trees the water poured in rivulets, off the needles of the spruces. It soaked in through every stitch of fabric, no matter how waterproof, and dripped down into your boots. The best you could say about it was that it cleaned the old dirt out, and replaced it with new, more interesting mud.

After this mission, even Daisya might be tired of it. It had rained every damn day since they'd set out over a week ago. It wasn't even the sheer amount of rain that bothered him — it was the wet clothes that weren't dry even after a night in front of the fire, and that started to smell mouldy after a few days rolled up.

And, in addition to clothes that became plain old unpleasant after being wet for a few days, there was Kanda, who became plain old unpleasant after being wet for a few minutes. Daisya would have sworn he was part cat or something, with the way he grumbled.

"It's about five more miles to the village, right?" Daisya asked, glancing up at the sky. He could still see a faint glimmer of sunlight through the iron grey, but looked down when some of the water splashed into his eyes.

"Kanda?"

The reply he heard was just a couple of snapped off words.

"Shut. Up."

Kanda stalked along beside him, giving the impression of a twig about to snap. Both of them were soaking wet, but Kanda was taking it worse. Actually, he hadn't told Daisya to shut up much since that thing with the river bed some months after they'd met, so for him to be this angry was an event to be remembered.

Where were we? Oh, yeah. The sky. They'd run into the weather that had been on the horizon that morning, but the trees made it difficult to gauge how far away that was. Daisya had estimated six miles based on the time they'd travelled. The point where it start to hurt, but not too much.

Speaking of which, he'd discovered an ability to guess distances pretty well a few months back. He'd had it before, but he hadn't really thought about it until he was running hell-for-leather away from a bunch of akuma and ran into an illusion that Isaac had forgotten to undo. He'd had to be really, really sure of exactly how far away the river was.

Isaac was a bit absentminded. Just a few weeks ago he'd forgotten what happened when you got grazed by a bullet and forgot to slice off that bit of skin.

Poor Isaac. All that was left was his Innocence.

Now only Jeanne, Kiki, and Idris were left of the kids from three years ago.

Daisya had been off with Marie at the time, but Helle had kicked the bucket when a mission got caught up with a Noah. A couple of grown-ups had gone to the same fate. When they'd found them, they were all humming the same tune.

None of them survived long after.

There'd been another new kid that came in six months ago, but he'd disappeared pretty soon after that. Lenalee said he was a bit insane, so they were keeping him in the hospital until he accepted his Innocence.

He remembered that Lenalee had rejected her Innocence as well.

She was probably just trying to forget. They were like brother and sister, but Daisya knew more than anyone that it didn't mean they shared secrets. It just meant that the secrets didn't matter. You screwed up? Doesn't matter. You ate the leftover cake _specifically_ labeled "do not touch"? You're dead to me.

Hard to imagine that he'd ever start to miss his siblings. The yearly trips back home cure it pretty quick, though. Last time his brothers hadn't spoken to each other the whole time. Some argument over a girl. No, Lenalee was better than a sibling. Daisya wouldn't press her to find out.

Still, it would be nice to—

His train of thought was derailed by a slipping noise, and the sound of a boot landing heavily in mud.

"I hate fucking branches."

The muffled swearing came from beside him, as Kanda found he was standing on a mud-covered branch instead, not actual mud. Daisya had made the mistake a few hours ago, as the splash of dark grey-brown up his side attested. Daisya couldn't resist a dig as revenge for Kanda's earlier grin.

"Don't like it, don't fuck 'em."

After a tense moment or two, Kanda regained his footing, and shot a customary glare at Daisya.

"I hate _you_."

Daisya clapped his hands together dramatically, and grinned.

"Hey, nice! You actually got it this time."

Kanda made a face, but quickly looked upwards, to the sky above the forest. Something might have caught his eye. Nah. He was probably just trying to hide his embarrassment, the sucker.

"Shut up," Kanda said quietly, as if reading his mind. Impressive.

The trees around them were almost impossibly tall and dark, but hunched over. They looked like they were scared of something. Maybe the rain, but it was already here.

Daisya quickly took stock of the surroundings. Mud, spruce, fir, some oak, greys skies, not much wind, noise of rainfall and not much else. Kanda, he could feel, but there wasn't the sneaking eyes-on-back-of-head sensation he'd learned to look for. There shouldn't be any akuma this far away. Noah rarely bothered to come out for most occasions, though there had been a few more sightings than average in the past ten years. Besides, they weren't worth worrying about — if you met them, you were dead. If you didn't, you stood a chance. No use trying to fight them.

Oh, well, it was always a good time to have another go at Kanda

Who was oddly relaxed. No frown, no bristling anger, no nothing. Very exciting, Daisya was sure. Kanda always relaxed when he didn't know what else to feel. Right now, he just glanced casually around the trees, instead of skewering Daisya with a glare.

Whatever he'd seen, it was nothing major. Daisya fell back into position about a foot behind Kanda.

"So Kanda," he started, "You didn't tell me you were telepa–"

He didn't finish the sentence. A lighting-fast movement had knocked the air out of him.

More precisely, Daisya's feet had slid out beneath him as Kanda knocked him sideways and covered his mouth. The rain stopped pattering on his hood as he was pushed, then pulled in one smooth movement off the road, beneath the thick cover of the trees.

"Ow!" he whined, "What the–"

"I said _be quiet_ ," Kanda hissed, grabbing his shoulders and driving him further back, away from the road.

A fraction of a second later, some amount told Daisya he'd been knocked backwards into a tree trunk. These spruces were pretty tough on the skin, even with the painkillers and fifteen thousand damn layers of regulation disguise on top of regulation uniform.

"What's going on?" he asked softly, flicking his eyes up. He could see the road over Kanda's shoulder, but nothing seemed to be there.

Kanda's eyes slid sideways, then back to Daisya. He hadn't taken his hands away. It must have been serious.

"I thought I saw an akuma," Kanda muttered, "If you see it, pretend we're arguing travellers, or something. I don't think it saw us."

Daisya whistled softly.

"Damn. Aren't we still a few miles out?"

"Yeah, but the akuma seem to like the villages around it better. Probably the Innocence is protecting itself."

The rain kept coming down under the trees, pouring off the needles and blocking the sounds of their hushed conversation. This place was pretty gloomy. Except at night. At night it was just creepy.

"Got it. We should probably fetch it pretty soon, before old man Marie starts worrying."

"Yeah, it's been pretty slow. No thanks to you."

Daisya grinned.

"Slow and steady wins the race."

"No, it doesn't."

It might have been just Daisya's imagination, but a shadow seemed to fall over the road. The light was too dim to tell. Whatever, it was, akuma attack would be pretty in this weather. Slipping would not be fun.

He pressed his shoulder blades against the tree bark, using the pressure to detach the bell from his hood.

"I think I saw it," he whispered, flicking his eyes to the right as an illustration for Kanda.

He felt Kanda's fingers tense, and their grip loosed in anticipation of his movement.

Quietly, he let the Charity Bell drop into his hand. The faint ringing noise was almost covered up by the rain.

There — something was moving overhead.

He broke loose from Kanda's hold, and gave himself a running start.

They had to get this one before it started shooting at them, and warned the others. Kanda was too short-range for that.

So Daisya had to do it. Using a verbal trigger would be stupid, 'cause there were probably more around, but he'd have to work around the weaker attack.

Well, he thought, mid-leap, maybe he could afford a murmur. Just not a yell.

"Charity Bell, activate."

He kicked the Innocence while still in midair to avoid slipping and skewing the course, and watched it blaze up into the sky. Come on, come on…

There was the deep, rich sound of a church bell, and a couple of shreds drifted caught on branches high above. When Bell soared back, he caught it on his foot.

"Hey, Kanda," he said quietly, "D'you think it's still safe to use the road? This guy might have had buddies."

Kanda, with the stealth of a cat, had appeared beside him. He moved fast.

"We're still in disguise, and there aren't any Noah involved, so it's better if we go on the road. We'll look suspicious if we walk in the trees."

"Roger that."

As if nothing had happened, the two sodden figures kept on their path.

 **I remember, we once went on a short hike. A few hours, mostly flat. It started raining about half an hour in. The weather wasn't the most fun, but the sensation of being in the lichen-draped spruce forest, under a heavy sky with no one else around was something to experience. That was after I wrote most of this, but I just have a thing for forests and rain.**


	47. Chapter 47

**[x-files theme playing in the background]**

 **The lyrics are entirely irrelevant, but Moonspell's Night Eternal and Erasure's Smoke and Mirrors are two songs that evoke the kind of creepy, grey-black solitude that I was going for with this, but likely failed to conjure. And, as usual, I can't thank any and all reviewers enough. Just knowing that someone still reads this keeps me motivated to finish this all. I promise there is a point to the story, which will hopefully become a little clearer near the end of this arc. I think this might be my 100k milestone? If not, it's the next chapter!**

It was one night and one day later when the two exorcists passed under the abbey's arches.

…

After the storms, the sky had turned clear and cloud-stained, with white strands pulling across the sky like stretched cotton. In the glow of dusk, there seemed to be a violet light cast across the blackened stone and wood.

…

After the incident on the road, they'd pressed through into the night to find their contact finder, who hadn't been much use. The facts, as they knew them, were:

1\. People disappeared everywhere around the abbey.

2\. Finders found akuma everywhere around the abbey, and caught them.

3\. Finders disappeared _at_ the abbey.

4\. No single finder had returned from the abbey alive.

There had been nothing for it but to get a good day's sleep.

Daisya looked up at the heavy wooden gates, and whistled. They were embedded in the high walls, and the tar-stained, decaying timbers were reinforced with a grid of black iron, sideways planks of different grains nailed in, and the original great metal hinges like fleur-de-lis reaching at intervals up the side. A relic from an age when your neighbours might well have tried to break in, and enlisted an army to do so.

"Now doesn't _that_ look creepy," he commented, "You sure we should be doing this at night?"

Kanda nodded brusquely, walking past Daisya along the damp grass.

"The sooner we get this over with, the better. Come on."

The doors were open. Daisya might say they almost looked inviting, if they'd been painted a nice cheery yellow, or something, and weren't a good twenty feet high.

Something wasn't right. He hung back, scuffing his heel along the ground, kicking up the dirt. Maybe it was just the Innocence. Maybe it was an akuma.

"Hey, you coming or what?"

He looked up to meet Kanda's eyes, as the he'd turned around in the doorway.

"Yeah, yeah."

Daisya tripped forward, and Kanda muttered something he couldn't hear, then started walking again.

The moment before he stepped over the threshold, time stopped.

Or at least that's what it seemed like.

The stones in the archway weren't as solid as Daisya wanted. They might have been reinforced with mud and sand, from the original, but that wasn't too sturdy. Not at all.

People's minds don't work properly, when things get serious.

To be more exact about this whole situation: Daisya saw a block about a foot square fall from the top of the gate. Instinctively, he knew it would reach the point about five feet above the ground before Kanda moved any further forward, at this pace.

This all happened in the blink of an eye.

" _Kanda–!_ "

Kanda's reflexes kicked in when the block had cleared about half the distance to the ground, and he leapt forwards, crossing the threshold, and the stone thudded down where he had been standing maybe half a second ago.

Daisya felt something strange run up his spine, and curl in his chest at the sound. It had all the heavy finality of a lead coffin dropped into a grave.

The sound of a sword slipping out of its sheath unfroze him, and his eyes focused, seeing Kanda waving him on. What he said could have been "careful," could have been, "hurry up."

Stone grating on stone did the rest of the work, spurring him into a run, and he crossed over with the odd, flatfooted gait of any otherwise graceful person trying to run on ice or wet grass.

"Hey, what was that?"

"Don't know."

Daisya pulled up beside Kanda, skidding to a halt on the damp, dead grass. This place was deserted. He couldn't tell if this was supposed to be a field or a floor. Half of it were uneven chunks of stone; the other half was a thick layer of yellowing grass. From the look of it, it must have been decades since anyone stayed here, but there was enough space for a town to live here. The grassy land ran in a strip between the walls and the castle — probably for defence, or something — and in front of them they saw the castle, some feet higher again than the walls.

"Yeah, and you didn't catch it in time, either."

"Quiet."

One behind the other, they skirted the inner walls as quickly as they could, looking for a way in.

…

God damn, it was dark out now. Daisya was just thankful his eyes were so used to it. Innocence liked dark places, and sometimes made its own. That was why it was always good to pay attention to how things looked the first time you went 'round them. Like that one time, back in the Balkans, with the foothills and the stream.

If Kanda hadn't been close by back then, he would have been screwed six ways to Sunday.

Speaking of which.

"D'you think we should split up once we get inside?" he asked softly.

Kanda shook his head ahead of him. There were a few small openings in the walls, and windows, but nothing wide enough to step through that opened on to a floor. The windows up above might be useful, if there was no other way.

"No. If we get separated, there's a better chance one of us is going to die."

It sounded pretty harsh (as normal — this was Kanda, after all), but it wasn't that big of a deal. Daisya understood why he'd say it like that.

"Got it."

They walked softly, trying not to be too intrusive a presence. Innocence might have been technically good, but that was its own side. The exorcists were just intermediaries.

"Hey," Daisya whispered, after a few minutes more, "Have a look over here."

He pointed at the wall. Or rather, the wall behind the wall. The outer wall had broken down, revealing an inner wall, and what looked to be a staircase climbing between the two of them, up to the upper levels. It was all in shades of darkest grey on pitch black, but there was a depth to the shadows there that implied that something led off, and into the castle.

"What?"

"If you just sneak inside the wall, there's a hallway, I think. Can you see?"

Daisya pointed, and Kanda looked down his arm.

"I guess."

Daisya shook his head, and plucked the bell off his hood.

"Let's go check it out. Innocence–!"

The bell started to burn, but the flames looked as if they were more a projection of a fire than fire itself. The old man had taught him this little trick. You might not always need a bomb, he'd said. Sometimes a flashlight is better.

He vaulted over the over the pile of rock that blocked the entrance, and held the bell out in front of him. Yep, looked like there was a hallway, just a bit out of the way of the hole. Hah. You wouldn't even notice it if you looked straight on, but from this angle it was easy to see. There was the outer wall, then a kind of tower inside, with half staircase circling around, but beneath the staircase a corridor went along the length of the fortress, between the walls, disappearing into the darkness after a few feet.

Stone ground against stone overhead, but this time Daisya was ready for it.

He heard Kanda shout a warning, and he quickly tossed the bell up, hitting it with his knee to send it flying into the stone blocks. It was a simple thing to shatter them, letting pebbles rain down where he'd been standing.

From inside the castle, Daisya turned to look back.

"This place could use some fixing up," he called, "So be careful."

Warning done, he turned to examine the hallway in detail. The Bell cast a pale light on the stones, but didn't reveal much. Stone blocks that still fit together well enough on the walls, stone floor, criss-crossing roman arches overhead to hold up the ceiling. There looked like a door about ten metres on, to the right. Couldn't hurt to try.

A thud and some grumbling from behind him told him that Kanda had gotten through the carnivorous entryway. This was definitely a bit weird. Not even akuma had aim as good as this.

He looked over at Kanda, grinning.

"Looks like this isn't that great a place to stay, eh?."

Kanda nodded.

"We should get this over with. It should be at the centre of the castle, if it's like the others."

"Yeah."

Daisya looked back at the corridor, and narrowed his eyes. Hadn't there been a door somewhere along the wall?

Hey, he was probably just getting paranoid.

In tandem, the two started to run down the hallway, using a loping gait to go as fast as possible without using too much extra energy. Daisya had been trying to get things over with as fast as possible since he'd gotten stuck in that whole mess, with the apparitions of his family.

The stone blocks flashed by, interspersed with brick and wood where they'd been pillaged to reinforce doorways or other parts of the wall. In front of them, corridor turned, and turned again, then turned into a stairwell going up about one story. There was no light but the glow of the Charity Bell, and the occasional glimpse of moonlight through a window or a hole in the wall. The old man would say it gave the place ambiance. Daisya would say it just gave him the creeps.

After the stairwell, it opened up on one of a row of chambers — the next one along was visible through the open door between them. There were all sorts of places you could hide Innocence — in the mattresses, beneath the carpet, or in the hidden drawers of rotting dressers, to give an example.

This place was so old and so broken-down, but people had definitely lived here, once. What was left in this one was a straw mattress in the corner, an ornate wardrobe, and a foot-rest, but no chair. Probably the wardrobe and foot-rest were from longer ago - they were in pretty bad shape, and definitely had been here long enough to gather a thick layer of dust.

Without speaking, every crevice was searched and every piece of furniture turned over, or in some cases punched through. The finders hadn't been able to enter the castle, let alone find the Innocence, so a slow search was necessary.

After three or so rooms, Daisya ran into one that looked like something out of a palace.

To put aside the size and the sheer amount of furniture, this one had a window. It ran high up the wall, narrow at the top and bellying out in the middle. At the centre of the room was an old, huge rug, a four-poster bed frame with no mattress, and an old chest. Along the sides, there were all sorts of wreckage. The corner of a picture frame, some long-forgotten canvas, a huge armchair — whoever had been here had trashed the place, before time did its work.

Over it all, the pale outline of moonlight falling through the window printed a tear-drop shape on the room. The shadows cast by the iron bars across it curved over the chest. For all it was just some window, it looked like an eye.

The feeling of ice near the base of his neck made Daisya look up.

Through the window, he saw the bell tower, embedded in the outer wall.

Something felt wrong.

Then — tarnished metal curled between the panes of glass, splitting the moonlight into so many sections, as if someone had smashed it like glass.

And that was _not_ a metaphor. The metal moved, like something alive.

The bell rang, once, twice, and solemnly.

Something _was_ wrong with this place.

For one, there was no one to ring the bell.

The grinding sound behind Daisya told him that the bell was only the start of his problems.

He whipped around, scanning the room for any more changes. The Charity Bell followed him, swooping and shining in the dimming moonlight.

The ground beneath his feet was shifting, and the walls started to look as if they were expanding, making it impossible to reach the edge of the room.

Time to go.

Daisya doubled back, trying to outrun — he wouldn't have believed it if he'd told himself — trying to outrun the floor. To his left, the window was closing over, and ahead the ceiling was crumbling in to to block the doorway between his room and Kanda's. Not good.

"Hey, Kanda, watch out!"

Mind still racing, Daisya leapt up and used a driving kick to send the Charity Bell through the wall, running hell for leather after it. The ceiling was making more suspicious noises.

The distance had stretched to a hundred metres or so, now. He scrabbled on the dusty stone, trying to keep up with the Innocence. If…

A lump of stone fell from the ceiling, and plummeted just in front of him. He plunged through it in a cloud of shards.

If something fell, his Innocence could break through it just fine.

There were only a few metres left, and Daisya was running faster than the building was moving. He'd been though way tougher things than this, but this was the first time that he'd ever have to contemplate _that_ line of thinking.

A fraction of a second later, Daisya skidded to a halt in Kanda's room.

"Change of plan," he panted, "I found the Innocence."

Between them, the floor cracked open.


	48. Chapter 48

**I'm so sorry about the long wait! This semester's been kicking my ass, and no matter how much I edit this chapter just isn't coming out quite how I imagine - it's more cinematic, and there's only so much action an amateur can write without it getting boring. I'm afraid this also ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, but once classes are over I'll be able to whip the rest of this arc into shape.**

 **Also, I'm afraid I have to say that Kanda is, for better or for worse, the deuteragonist of this series. Marie and Lenalee are characters that are more compelling to me than Kanda, but they and Tiedoll seem like they would get along quite well with Daisya from the start. Kanda, on the other hand, is a challenge. I'll try to write about the others more in the future, though! And thank you all so much for your eloquent comments. Hopefully over the summer, I can get this back on to a more regular schedule!**

 **Artistic liberties have been taken with architecture and physics. Please excuse them by means of the 'it's all magic and this guy fights with a soccer ball' handwave.**

Kanda reacted with the speed of a snake, leaping to throw Daisya forward. He knew he could take the landing however far down; a bad angle for a _real_ human, on the other hand, could crush bones and snap necks. He knew this, very well.

Real people broke easily.

When the dust settled, Daisya was hanging off the wall about fifteen feet up from where Kanda was standing, trying to survey the ground without taking either of his hands off of the crack between stones. How he'd managed to get a grip was another question — all Kanda had been hoping to accomplish was a landing on a flat surface — but now his fingers were starting to slide. At least the chalky dust would keep him there for a minute more.

A quick look around told him the hallways underneath the room were just another part of the maze they'd come through. Each one led off sharply into shadows, where the piles of debris dropped off. It was only about 3 square metres of the floor that had fallen through, so the high-reaching walls sealed them off above and directly to the side.

"All clear down there?" Daisya called, voice echoing shrilly, "I don't wanna break my ankle today, if it's all the same to you."

Ungrateful brat. Still, the ground was uneven under him, so he had a point.

"Hang on for a minute. Drop when I say so."

His muscles tense for a moment when Daisya's hand slipped, but he quickly adjusted his grip.

"That doesn't sound good."

Something pressed on his mind like a weight, at the sound of his voice, the sight of dust and darkness. Something from _before_ — or not. He was tired. It was getting to him.

"Shut up and _wait_ for five seconds, will you."

Kanda bounded lightly over the fallen stones, and stopped beneath Daisya, trying to find a spot to brace himself. A rolled ankle was nothing, but it was still best to make sure.

"I mean, I can't really see down and my fingers are seriously slipping—"

"Now."

Daisya was heavier, and bonier than the last time they'd done this.

…

The corridor suddenly turned right, but Kanda changed direction easily. Daisya did so with rather less grace.

"So, let me get this straight," Kanda called, not looking back, "The Innocence is in the bell, and it's causing this place to _move_?"

"Hey, you've seen it. What else could it be?"

Kanda scoffed, breath even despite the pace he took.

"How should I know?" Daisya shot back, "We're still alive, so it's probably not a Noah."

"Probably."

The two raced forward, trying to anticipate the next curve that would spring up out of the darkness, or staircase that suddenly reached up only to end in thin air. The shadows and grey stone layered on top of one another, so that judging any distance was impossible. Daisya had to admit, this was sort of fun. It was just that after a half hour of this, he knew he'd start to slow to a crawl. They needed to get out in the open, and quickly, before the Innocence trapped them.

"See?" Daisya yelled, overtaking Kanda on a downward stair, "It's trying to cut us off, like back in Croatia, or wherever that was. You know, with the river valley."

They hit the flagstones running, and were quickly driven up again.

"Who cares what it is?"

He specifically looked back to throw a glare at Kanda.

" _You_ did, thirty seconds ago—"

The stair dropped into nothing. Just as he Kanda lashed out, and grabbed Daisya's hand the moment before he went over in a cloud of dust.

A few rocks, kicked up by their boots, took some time before they hit the ground.

"Watch where you're going," he said quietly. "I'll be in front, from now on."

Out of breath and embarrassed, Daisya nodded in agreement.

"Good."

They jumped, rolled, and Kanda pulled him forward into the black.

…

At last, the corridor ran up a stair, and opened on to the great hall of the abbey, moonlit and silver.

It was a soaring construction, strewn with the wreckage of a crumbling castle. The stones, true to form, had piled up just high enough to block any clear path through the maze's centre. Gothic windows rose up the sides of the construction like ribs or even teeth, all with the same eye-like shape as the first, written out in iron filigree.

Daisya had some suspicions about that.

If it weren't for the fact that this place was trying to kill them, it would have been beautiful. The walls were carved with columns, and the thin light falling through the moving glass formed mosaics on the ground.

A few breaths were enough to clear his vision, and scan the room for exits or openings. The roof was half-collapsed, but apart from the stars above there was no way out that he could see. Just up, or back into the maze. The General probably would have stopped to paint this, sentimental that he was, but he'd had seen too much to care about stars right now.

After a moment, he decided. If Kanda hadn't already taken the time to grumble his opinion, it was up to him to choose.

"I think," he started, weighing the possibility that this could all go horribly, horribly wrong (there was about a 30% chance), "We can get there if we take the stairs where we got in. You know?"

He met Kanda's eyes, soft for a moment in the darkness. They'd had a few close calls, but this hit them in a weak spot. Marie was the one for riddles and clues, but more and more as they grew older, he wasn't there like he'd been before, in Hungary first and on so many missions since then.

They just had to take care of themselves, now.

"Yeah," murmured Kanda, finally nodded, "Follow me."

They set off at a run, keeping up a guard. Some seconds later, a cloud of shrapnel fell over them when the Charity Bell swooped overhead, detonating another piece of debris. It was times like this where long-range weapons really showed their stuff, Daisya had learned.

He followed Kanda, leaping over the stones at a speed just below his limit, and weaving around the ones that shifted or sprung up. It wasn't that much like a maze, actually. This _moved_. Like something out of the nightmares, where no matter how fast you ran, your feet stuck to the floor like glue, and the

Now, ugh, anyone could see the difference between them. Kanda was light-footed, eating up the distance despite the few inches still between them. He seemed to have no weight, pack or not. The fact that he touched the ground after he jumped seemed to be just a bit of courtesy to the normal people (read: Daisya) around him. It was a good thing Kanda was such a bastard, 'cos otherwise Daisya wouldn't be sure if he was even human. Slim yet incredibly strong, harsh and quiet, something more out of the fairy stories than anything real; some shining knight standing on the threshold to another world.

His foot caught on a piece of stone, throwing off his balance to the point where he nearly fell. Damn. He'd been distracted.

Ahead of him, Kanda had reached the opposite wall, and wrenched open a door, turning to face him.

"Come on!"

He put on a final burst of speed, and skidded through the opening, before anything could block the way, and almost doubled over. Kanda followed, slamming the door shut behind.

"Man," Daisya wheezed, "Why do we always get these missions?"

"Because they want to get rid of you," said Kanda plainly.

"Hah, so you're enjoying yourself."

Daisya caught his breath, and straightened up.

"Anyway," he continued, "I don't think it moves much if there aren't any windows. I think it uses them like eyes, which is why they look so weird."

"It moved when we were in the dark."

"Yeah, but it wasn't specific. It was just trying to mess with us."

Kanda examined the walls warily.

"Let's just get this over with."

He started walking, and Daisya skipped into place beside him. The silence that had settled over them was one of the more uncomfortable ones. Somehow, it felt like something was going to go wrong. More wrong than it already had, anyway.

"Say," he said simply, "We've got nothing else to do, so how about a game of 'who's Alma'?"

It was always worth a try, to get it over with. What had started as a truce between Kanda's motivations and Daisya's stupid habits was now just another thing to pass the time.

"Calico Cat is better."

"But you got to choose last time!"

" _Fine_."

About twenty seconds passed before Daisya had his first guess ready.

"I'm gonna say he was about the same age as Lenalee's brother."

…

Kanda's face had settled into a sullen grimace. Daisya had made it a bit of a tradition to describe what he thought Alma was, and no amount of half-hearted 'shut up' could stop him. The first few times, Kanda had fought the urge to cut his tongue off.

But after a while, it was almost fun. The different versions Daisya came up with were just people who had the same name, and not _him_ himself. It dulled the pain.

"…green eyes, I think, and blond hair. About 5'8"."

"Wrong."

Daisya was never going to know. The boy who even now was kicking pebbles down the hallway to pass the time, when he should have been lying somewhere in the dark with a broken leg and no chance of rescue, couldn't be allowed to know. Kanda had determined this to be a fact.

"Girl, then. You're lying about it being a he, I think. She's about the same height Helle was. I think 5'5"? Red hair."

It wasn't that he'd treat it as a joke. If that was true, Kanda would have given up ages ago. No. It was the opposite.

"No."

He was never going to know who Alma was.

"Blue eyes," announced Daisya, breaking the silence, "Liked to play card games. Smiley kind of kid."

"You know what I'm going to say."

"So that's wrong, then."

He had to grin. "Yeah."

There were a lot of things he was never going to know.

…

Daisya trailed off after a minute, and in silence the pair followed the corridor along and up, as it turned into a series of staircases. The blackened walls seemed to absorb all sound but the chalky noise of boots on stone, and the occasional gasp for air.

By the time the stairs opened at the top of a tower, Daisya was far too tired to speak. The night had worn on longer than either of them had wanted, grinding his mind into the dust.

From here, you could see the whole of the complex. The tower they were on had the typical alternating pattern of stones, giving slots for crossbows as well as more open gaps, with higher stacks of blocks to hide behind. In short, your average defense turret from the Dark Ages.

The view of the castle afforded by the turret was a bit less than average.

But for a single stone hallway cutting across the grounds, this half of the castle wasn't even standing; the wall of the castle and the outer wall of the church-like hall were the only other pieces intact. Stones and half-broken walls stacked up, sometimes low to the ground and sometimes metres above it. If M.C. Escher had laid eyes upon the structure, he would have been amazed to find a building he could copy perfectly.

Beyond the other side of the wreckage, the bell tower stood tall, embedded in the wall. Leading to it was a single staircase, one side attached to the wall, the other stepping off into empty space. It climbed down from the turret, and ran parallel to the ground in uneven stretches, before stepping up and up, with roughly five sets of steps and landings, one on the inside of the wall's corner, before reaching the tower. The stairs looked barely navigable. Parts of them would likely collapse with the tiniest amount of weight, so it would be safest to cling to the wall on the right side. Magic held this place together, but even then there were places where a stub of rock was the closest thing to a step for a few feet.

"I'll go first," said Kanda, having come to the same conclusion as Daisya, "We need to get there quickly."

"No arguments here."

Smoothly, the two walked on to the stairs. Running wasn't worth the risk. Here and there, the outer stone crumbled, and the staircase clung all the more perilously to the side.

Despite all of that, there was a strange comfort in it. Moving shadows and glassed-in eyes were one thing, but exorcists were no stranger to the nighttime, and these two were no strangers to each other. Their feet fell in stride, so light they seemed to glide up, though they were quick to gain a hold on the edge of the wall when the ground fell out from under them.

Daisya followed Kanda, now leaping over a missing stretch of about a metre as the staircase reached its midpoint along the wall. A brief glance over the scene showed him a blackened vista greater than he'd been able to see before. There was a sheer drop of at least twelve metres from here, on to stone or muddy grass. Any fall from this height would end badly; that knowledge slowed his steps and sharpened his senses. He'd need to put his mind to it to get out of this intact, as on most missions. Kanda, on the other hand, went ahead with the self-assured grace of a cat.

The staircase dropped down again.

…

Some information about the next setting is important. The staircase was climbing now, with a landing for every six or so feet of ascentsion. The bell tower was straight ahead, then around the inside corner, to the left as it skirted the inner wall. The wall the staircase was still attached to ran along their right. A more ruined barrier, still standing, blocked part of the staircase from sight, but a window left enough of a view to assure that it was still there.

A gibbous moon rose behind the bell tower. Had Daisya cared to notice, it was in conjunct with Mercury.

Kanda had started to pick up the pace, more sure of the ground beneath him. He followed the stairs over a rabbit's warren of rubble and roofless rooms, not glancing down but staring ever forward.

His path hit the wall, and he turned with it, Daisya on his heels.

The wall was solid, but some feet above, part of a leftover landing jutted out. Neither of them noticed it.

Neither of them noticed the thin trail of dust leaking down, following them.

Beside them, the window opened a fraction, as if breathing, an iron mesh swirling across its surface. Just as they settled, the bell tolled like thunder, without any hands to ring it.

 _Once…_

Daisya saw the movement, and heard the ringing of the bell. Kanda was still walking, just ahead of him. The stone above and below had started to give out more easily.

In a split second, Daisya recognized many things.

Five feet of staircase was missing ahead, having fallen away from the wall. The opening was easy to jump; Daisya would need a head start, but Kanda could easily do it from standing.

The wall beside it was full of chinks, large enough to fit a hand or a sword.

Kanda halted near the edge, looking ahead to the tower.

Above his head, something whistled through the air, disguised by the noise of the bell and by the darkness.

A handful of stones, each more than a foot square. Enough to hurt. Enough to crush a head or a ribcage or both in a fraction of a second.

 _Twice…_

There were no akuma, not here, not now.

Only one living exorcist was needed to obtain the Innocence.

The last thing Kanda felt before he fell was a hand, planted in his back and pushing him forward, into the gap.


	49. Chapter 49

**This is just a short little installment, to try and fill in the gaps of what happened, which isn't entirely clear. Hopefully it'll be straightened out next chapter, but for now...**

 **And thank you again and profusely to all who read and comment! It's the most obscure character in a dead fandom, but I'm glad somehow that Daisya still has some fans.**

It — the Innocence that was their objective — was close enough for Kanda to taste.

Every minute more they spent here was too much, with just the two of them. They'd been sent out for reconnaissance and extermination, not to try and figure out whatever the hell was going on here. Figuring out the Innocence was for scholars. They were here to kill. It was all they were good for.

No, it was all he was good for. Daisya was long-range, and clever; he'd been the one to think about this place, try to figure out what was going on, noticing when and where the walls moved, hearing everything that Kanda never bothered to listen to. To think that the boy who'd never bothered to _pay attention_ to where Kanda was hiding something, or when the akuma were right in front of him and bearing down, would end up with a brain that sparked like flint if only you just scraped it against something.

He could have a future, if he just reached out and took it.

A slight movement in the stone beneath him made him jump, brushing a hand against the wall, as a section started to crumble. There was a gap ahead that would need a leap, but it was far enough ahead to ignore right now.

Why didn't Daisya _see_ it? He faced off with Lenalee for training, and even when she didn't hold back he sometimes matched her mind for mind. A fucking genius! It was bad enough that she couldn't see how strong she was sometimes, but Daisya didn't have a clue. Never thought about what it took to reach out a hand, or track down a source, or make the air seem lighter, easier to breathe. He'd just kept rushing back into the same situations, over and over again, and Kanda (or Marie, or Lenalee) had to keep saving the useless bastard, over and over again. Even since they'd — since he'd agreed to stop it, he still pushed on. Not as much, but in different ways. Wasting an exorcist that the Order couldn't spare.

And still he kept guessing. Closer and closer, changing the hair colour and the height and creeping too damn close to who Alma was. Until today.

Now, by chance or by design, he knew.

Kanda wasn't sure how serious he was, how much digging he'd been doing, how long they were both prepared to let this game play out, but if Daisya really meant what he'd said…

They could only hope he'd stopped being so _stupid_. That he'd learned not to throw his life away to take down one akuma, or find one piece of Innocence.

The kid with ragged hair, curved tattoos, a stocky build, and a broad smile had haunted him for as long as this body had been alive. But which one?

Which one was it?

A sharp _clang_ shook him out of the train of thought that had circled him for years, and sharpened his attention towards the front. _The tower_ —

Kanda heard only the tolling of the bell, and saw it silhouetted against the moon. He didn't hear, beneath the ringing, the grating of stone on stone, or a gasp behind him.

…

The next few seconds had passed either very quickly or very slowly. Darkness, thunder, pushing, breathless. The rush of air behind him as something dropped, within a few inches of him.

He was falling. Again. Someone had pushed him and he _couldn't do anything again—_

For a moment, he was running from the Asian Branch. No. No, he couldn't be. That was 'd escaped. Run, Yuu _—_ _NO!_

Reflexes kicked in, jolting him back to the present in time to whip out Mugen, and plunge it sideways into mouldering stone. Steeled by magic, it dug into the wall, and slowed him down.

Something fell past him. Someone. Something and someone. And blood.

Lots of blood.

…

Daisya woke up to water trickling down the side of his neck.

The tree above him gave some protection from the rain, but leaves were as good as funnels in a downpour, he noticed, before a wave of pain hit him, and hit him _hard_.

He froze, wincing and trying to remember what the hell he'd done this time. Nothing.

Just as well. Oh, god it _hurt_ …

Note by note, a melody filtered through the haze. Nothing special, just a little ditty to keep pace or pass the time. The singer's voice had a child-like quality to it. The singer's words did not.

He cleared his mind, trying to steady his breathing. Doing something stupid right now would get him a scolding from Marie and the old man at best, and at worst would get him an express ticket to see Isaac and Antonina and the others. Human, akuma, or whatever else this singer was, it wasn't going to be friendly to exorcists.

His breath was surprisingly easy to dampen. It almost like he wasn't breathing at all. Maybe Kanda's meditation practice had paid off, at last.

Footsteps approached, sinking in the muck, and a curious figure stopped across from him. Somehow, it felt like he was looking up and down at her at the same time. Weird.

"What happened to this one, I wonder?"

She crouched down, looking at him with the delicate pity of a butterfly collector, ready with the pin.

"Don't know, lero."

The second voice seemed to some from her side, though no other speaker was present.

"Hmm. Do you think he's really dead?"

"Probably, lero," the voice quavered, "Lady Road, it's just a human, and I think the Earl would like it if you got back soon–"

A quick gesture, followed by a whoosh and a shriek, silenced the voice as the stick-like figure stood bolt upright.

"Yeah, yeah," she sighed.

It was a girl that was standing there, no more than twelve years old, and swinging around a gaudy umbrella. She had turned to walk away.

As if to make sure, she looked back once, and Daisya's eyes finally cleared enough to see her face. On her forehead sat a crown-shaped scar.

Seeing nothing in his body, she looked up, into his eyes. For a moment, he could have sworn she saw him watching.

Then she turned back, and walked away.

Another sensation of agony hit, clouding his mind. God, not now, _no—_

A strangled noise escaped him, once she'd disappeared from view. Now, the pain was unbearable. He couldn't believe he hadn't been able to feel the scratch of bark and even the dull burning of his eyelids.

And the taste of the blood that coated his mouth, and spilled down his lips.


	50. Chapter 50

All told, they were out of there in two days. It took that long for Kanda to clean the akuma from the area. They would be back. Daisya's leg was wrapped up with a splint, and he used crutches when he could. He always carried an emergency stash of medicine around, since the first time he'd been really banged up; now, he needed them.

Between a string of carts, coaches, crutches, and in a couple of places Kanda, they escaped with their bodies mostly intact.

…

This stretch was another of the painful ones. Daisya could hobble along on crutches well enough, but when the ground was almost mud and the ruts ran deep, those weren't enough. Sometimes Kanda could act as a human crutch, but on bad roads like this one he had to carry Daisya like a backpack. They couldn't afford to wait for him to heal, not if they wanted to get back to the order before any damage became permanent.

Since they set off from that abandoned cabin, there had been no comfort. In any other place, at any other time, Daisya would keep a pretty good conversation going by himself, and Kanda would sometimes contribute a retort or even a full sentence. The lapsed silences would then be a blanket, made up of the knowledge that there was nothing much to say, and nothing that needed to be said. The golden quiet would wrap around Daisya, slithering between his fingers and curling in his chest. It was so full of _normality_ , and yet it was so far from boring.

These ones — the silences since the castle — were bitter and tired, made up of the fragmented beginnings of sentences and stone blocks of slit-eyed glares. Misery, that was the word. Misery — thin, iron grey, and watery — dripped off of it, like the rain off the trees and Daisya's hood.

The medicine took the edge off the pain, but not off the sheer sandpaper roughness of Kanda. There wasn't a good reason but still. Still. Things had been so _good_ for months. Kanda, even though the rest of them were dropping like flies, was just himself.

And the others didn't even matter so much — you dropped a card at the plaque on their birthdays, you remembered what they did, but never who they were. There was a way to do that. A word, repeated often enough, loses its meaning. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac.

Had enough? Yeah. Now it just looks like a mutation of the alphabet, with too many A's. Not the kid who got Helle to teach him how to braid hair so that he could do his sister's.

You had to do it. You didn't want to know how your own name could end up meaning nothing.

Daisya tried to concentrate on his own breath, caught in his suddenly swollen throat. He could feel Kanda's too, so much more measured and more quiet.

He wasn't complaining. Contemplative, sleepy, and calm were the words that came to mind when Daisya examined him. Even his footsteps were light.

Obviously, someone had to fill in for his usual role.

'Cos Kanda was just acting like a kid throwing a temper tantrum, but in the opposite direction. Even his brothers had been more cunning about this, and they thought that drawing moustaches on pictures was the cleverest joke in the book. Come _on_.

Yeah, the moustaches were pretty funny, but that was beside the point!

Kanda and his hero complex were hilarious at first, but they got pretty tired and annoying pretty damned quickly. Sure, he'd taken a massive risk, but he knew that, and didn't care. He was just having fun. Everything else that happened was bad luck, a price to pay. They knew the deal. He'd even tried to stay alive. Hear that? He'd tried! Daisya Barry had tried! Kanda seemed to think of him as the Order's machine, but at times like this he didn't act like it.

Daisya felt his fingers tighten, the words piling up indignantly behind his teeth.

He'd seen how Kanda looked every time one of the exorcists died. Even if it was for a second here and there, there was always the same look of mute horror. For a moment, he just seemed to shut down.

Dying was fairly final. It was _it_. You never came back. Even if you continued to exist, knotted up behind gunmetal, there was no guarantee that it was the best option.

Kanda hated dying. That was old news. It was getting tired.

There was another, more important question.

"Hey, Kanda."

Silence followed the bitter words, their consonants chipped from rock.

"Alma's pretty short. He's got dark hair, wide eyes, and I'm still guessing he was your friend."

Silence.

The looks were a shot in the dark, as always, but those were only trimmings.

More silence.

"Hey, Kanda, I don't think I caught that."

Daisya didn't bother trying to hide the irony in his voice. People were afraid of Kanda, and he used to be one of them, but he was fed up with playing by someone else's rules. Even for Kanda.

"Shut up."

Warning number one.

"Come on, that's not what you said. So am I wrong or right?"

" _Shut up_."

Warning number two.

"You know what? I think I'm right. I've known you long enough to know–"

The support under Daisya's legs dropped, and he fell, catching himself on his forearms before the force of the fall got to his legs. Kanda hadn't bothered with the traditional count of three.

And now his clothes were all muddy. That sucked. They'd been muddy for days. It was getting boring, just like the rain, after a while. And Kanda.

Daisya decided to leave the crutches folded up in his backpack, and pulled himself up to sitting. He planted an arm behind him, and let himself shift back. One leg bent up, taking most of the weight, and the broken one lay outstretched.

"Hey, Kanda, you gonna help me up?"

Kanda threw him a glare. "Help yourself up."

The raindrops, fat and lukewarm, made dimples in the dirt around Daisya's fingers.

"So I was right."

Kanda wasn't walking at least, but standing to the side of the road, looking back.

"You know, you're acting like a little kid."

The gaze that met him was impassive. Kanda knew he had the high ground, and was in no hurry to give Daisya the advantage.

"You're just getting mad over something stupid. I've got siblings, I know what it looks like."

Daisya had already catalogued the trees around here to the best of his spotty knowledge, but a tree caught his eye that looked a bit like a hemlock. Amazing, what you notice when you've got more important things to think about.

"So just help me up and quit whining. It's getting boring."

Kanda seemed to have lost his patience, because now he was moving. The look he had plastered on was enough to make even the most terminally cheerful keep their distance. Daisya wasn't one of them. He wasn't about to lose this argument, not with two years of waiting.

Though it was still day, the clouds were thick and bruised, blocking off the sunlight and staining the earth dark with water. With the sun hidden behind the trees, it seemed almost as dark as dusk.

The pair of boots — his ankles were so skinny that he still had to wear the kids' ones, Daisya noted — came to a halt about a foot away, leaving Daisya looking up into raindrops and narrowed eyes.

With the shadow cast by what light remained, you got the impression that instead of an exorcist, fury incarnate had stopped by for a bit of a lecture.

"You were dead."

The words didn't just describe what had happened. They set it into place, as if carved into a headstone.

The spectre pointed at him with two fingers, leveled like a knife. Stretching up the wide sleeve of his coat, a long scar suddenly caught Daisya's eye. _That was new_.

"Don't try to tell me what happened."

The words were spat, and Daisya couldn't help feeling his breath speed up, looking up into the thing's eyes.

 _Enough._

Kanda liked to play this little game. Dance around and blame him whenever something went wrong, when Daisya had made a mistake, and he'd had enough. He'd been willing to take the consequences. Why did Kanda always have to be the saviour? All the times he'd played ball with him, partnered up for studying, hid a smirk at those terrible, terrible jokes — it went down the drain the moment things got serious. Then he was cold as hell and hard as stone and Daisya was so damn _sick_ of it—

He lashed out, grabbing Kanda's outstretched arm and pulling him off balance, down to his knees. With the other hand clutching Kanda's coat, Daisya pulled him so close that he could see the bloodshot whites of his eyes. Kanda looked shaken, desperate. Just like he felt.

"What the _hell—_ "

"Just admit it!" Daisya yelled, cutting him off, "Tell me what you did!"

"Let go of me." Kanda's voice was still set in a low growl.

"No. Just tell me. You got in trouble, I got you out, got myself into more trouble, you saved me! How god damned hard is it to say?"

"Shut up."

Daisya pulled the sleeve down, revealing the mark on the inside Kanda's forearm.

"You cut deep enough to be bleeding all over the place. Trust me, I know what it looks like. Just tell me what that was about. It doesn't make sense."

Kanda didn't answer, still breathing heavily.

"You know? You did this shit back in Budapest, in the forest — you're always like this every time it happens."

"Yeah, because every time you always do the same fucking thing!"

Daisya leaned up, covering the last few inches between them. He could feel Kanda's stray breath on his lips.

"So what, huh?"

"So you're fucking stupid It's my blood. That's what heals me up, what I just wasted on you."

"So why d'you even try to save me? It's not like it doesn't cost you anything."

Kanda's face twisted. "Fuck you. Fuck Marie."

He should probably mention later that it was the old man who'd told him about the cost of Kanda's healing, and not Marie, but he was too pissed off to correct Kanda now.

"Tell me why, or stop fucking pulling these stunts and expecting me to understand why you're upset!"

"Says you—"

Daisya felt himself tense in desperation, muscles coiling like an animal about to fight or run the hell away. He was wrong; so, so wrong, but there wasn't any other explanation and he was so weak.

"Just admit it."

Daisya cut himself off. His voice had evaporated, leaving only a whisper, and he'd already gone too far. Almost.

"Tell me you love me or hate me or _something—_ "

Kanda was silent. Daisya let go.

"You suck at talking," he finished unceremoniously, "Lenalee says."

He was expecting Kanda to pull away, avoid eye contact, say nothing. Instead, he felt an iron vice around his arm.

"You want me to tell you why?"

The voice was level.

"If you'd been travelling with anyone else, you'd be dead."

Kanda looked like he expected it to be an ultimatum. Shut up, be grateful for your life, and stop prying. But Daisya was one step ahead of him, for once.

"No."

"What _._ "

He smiled, still trying to guess whether he'd been right about why Kanda always had to save him. He was so _close_ to the answer that would let him go, free of all Kanda's stupid bullshit.

Alma.

"I mean, you're wrong." He'd meant for the words to be an arrogant declaration, but instead they came out wet and choked. "If I'd been travelling with anyone else, they'd be dead. Well, no, Lena and Marie still count, but the rest of them — I'd be alive. They'd be six feet under a pile of rock."

For a moment something in Daisya's line of vision gleamed. Everything was too real. His breath hung hot and heavy in his lungs, and he trembled. He could feel his heart hammering at his bones, as if something was trying to rip its way out of his chest. He was so close. To Alma. To Kanda.

Even now, when he was barrelling over the edge of the cliff, telling him everything and trying to get him to talk, he'd wanted to tear Kanda apart. Take out all the hurt, and put him back together without the thing that gnawed at his insides and kept his mouth glued shut. This wasn't the feeling he'd read about. Not anger.

He couldn't remember when it started, only that this was the closest he'd come to admitting it. Kanda wasn't the only one who couldn't deal with a problem.

For one moment longer, Kanda held his gaze, then knelt down beside him.

"If you do it again, I won't save you."

Daisya almost reached out, almost asked him all the questions he _almost_ had the answers to. So close.

Instead, he let Kanda pick him up carrying him the rest of the way.

Kanda's movements were almost gentle.

…

Kanda could heal himself. His wounds barely lasted for a few hours. There was nothing saying that his blood wasn't enough to heal others.

The mysterious girl had thought he was dead. The blood everywhere and the pain he had felt hadn't stopped him from looking at her.

And how had he managed to survive what would have killed Kanda?

Sprawled out on the ground, the pieces of the puzzle had slid into place for Daisya just moments before Kanda had told him how it worked.

"Alma" was just another word for "death." And — maybe, just maybe — another word for "friend."

Daisya felt his consciousness slipping away as he considered the answer that was almost right.

All these almosts were getting boring.


	51. Chapter 51

**This arc is just full of upset yelling. Sorry about the lack of updates, but...you know...**

 **I had to go back and reread a bit of the old stuff to remember exactly what I've written, and was funny to see how my writing style's grown up with Daisya. It's been 2 years in real and story time, so if that keeps up this will finally be finished in 2022! Lol, hopefully before then. As always, any feedback honestly means the world to me, so thank you all - especially karina001, who's been here the whole time. Even I don't have that much commitment to this work!**

 **Not sure how I'll continue after this chapter, but I might do a couple of flashbacks to fill the time**

Kanda carried him through the night, his short steps never flagging. They needed to get on to the main corridor that ran between Bratislava and Vienna, and soon. From there they could catch a train that would return them to the Order's doctors in time, or at least to some kind of help that wouldn't ask awkward questions about the state they were in. Kanda hadn't had time to think when he tried to heal Daisya, so in places the skin and bones knit together in ways that just looked wrong. If they waited too long, the damn leg would have to be broken and reset.

So they trudged along ankle-twisting wet roads, soaked through and bone tired. In between snatches of sleep, Daisya gave up wondering how much it hurt Kanda, even with all that whacked-out magic he had.

…

Daisya woke up in an unfamiliar bed, in a room he did not remember, with a dull ache in his leg that was a heck of a lot more recognizable. Not really pain, but a kind of itchy off-ness to it that crawled up his body. The leg, the room, even his eyes seemed like they were a mile away from his head. After a few shallow breaths and today's first dose, his senses finally kicked into gear, and waited, observing, while the body got itself in order.

It was brighter out than yesterday, but the light was still a thin blanket over the room, bleeding both the colour and the contrast out of it. Even the window opened on an off-white sky that made your eyeballs ache. That meant...they were on the first floor up? Second floor? He didn't remember this town, either, so it was hard to tell where the room was. Probably the second floor. Not much else was there, just the window that was under the ceiling in the corner to his left. And underneath that, sitting on his own bed and staring impassively, was a sideways Kanda. He supposed he'd have to sit up at some point, but for now it was _so_ much easier just to let his head fall all the way to the side.

Like the parts of a puzzle box, Daisya's mind slowly put together something to say. It was...not night. Probably morning.

"Oh, hey," he slurred, "G'mornin'"

Good enough. He'd said something, even when the rest of him felt like it was made of lead. The components of the box moved again, a scrap of memory sliding into place and unlocking another piece, which moved to join the rapidly-forming mosaic of the Life of Daisya Barry These Past Twelve Hours. Mostly it was rain, and complaining, and complaining about the rain, but then…

…oh, boy. Trying to pick a fight with Kanda. _Picking_ a fight with Kanda. What a move. He'd try to remember the details of whole thing later: exactly how he'd been right about Alma, how he'd known to guess it, how Kanda had finally caved in and admitted about the whole healing thing, but for now he was just going to steer clear of all that.

"Uh," he started again, keeping his vowels from sliding around this time, "What's going on, again?"

"It's past four. We'll change the splint, and then we're leaving as soon as you can eat something without spewing all over the floor." Kanda hadn't moved, so he was probably waiting for an intelligent response. Well, intelligent by Daisya's standards.

Wait…no, no, that wasn't right. Daisya'd always been the smart one, between the two of them. After all, who did better in German? Who'd come up with that really cool move he and Marie did back in Hungary? It wasn't _his_ fault if he couldn't live up to Kanda's faulty logic.

But he did feel a bit scatterbrained.

 _Anyway._

Four o'clock. It wouldn't be this light out in the morning, so it was the afternoon. Go figure. He must have been asleep when they arrived, and gone straight through the day. His travelling clothes had been changed for the spare nightshirt, but everything was soaked, so a new set of bandages wouldn't hurt. No objection there. But food…his stomach was in the habit of turning these days, and this was going to be way worse. The dry ration biscuits would have to wait for later. Last but not least, he was in no fit shape for walking. True, the constant doses of medicine kept the pain down, but after yesterday the roads would be too slick to chance with a half-broken leg.

"I'm not—"

"I'll carry you. You can sleep on the train, when we get to it." Kanda had slumped into a pretzel-like position, one leg bent up into a triangle with a hand stuck under it, grasping the other.

But, no, you can't sleep on the train with all that bouncing and rattling and all. He was dizzy in a regular old bed, so imagine what a train would be like.

"You were snoring on the way here, dumbass."

Daisya paused for a moment, and squinted until the light stopped dancing in front of his eyes.

"I said that out loud, didn't I?"

He sighed after a moment at the lack of response, and slowly, inch by inch, sat up. He looked back at Kanda, who was still a bit out of focus even right side up. God damn. A spinning head could be chalked up to lack of sleep, so he supposed he wasn't completely infirm.

"You going to eat now, or later?" asked Kanda, now walking over to him.

"Probably now. I'll just stare at it for an hour, and then I'll feel really sick, and maybe I'll throw up, and then I'll eat it."

"You're disgusting."

…

Kanda said nothing as he worked, undoing the more temporary splint piece by piece and improvising something closer to a cast. Keeping the leg still and in a natural-looking position was the most important part.

This was part of what they learned in the field, practicing on Finders and Exorcists, and even civvies. Kanda wasn't the best and wasn't close to it, but his hands were steady while cleaning wounds and binding them. This one must be nasty. Though Daisya had to crane his neck, he could see that the skin was healed over in some places and raw in others, revealing the mess that ran underneath.

"Stop moving."

It was barely a murmur, but Daisya laid back down.

"I kind of got the gist last night, but how bad is it?"

Kanda's hands slowed for a moment, holding in place as he got a pair of tweezers out of the oilcloth kit beside him.

"I've seen worse."

"Yeah, on me."

Daisya couldn't help adding it on, remembering how often Kanda had complained about his supposed injuries.

"Yeah."

The seconds blended into one another, as Daisya ran his eyes over the ceiling, and thought. Of a little seaside town in Turkey. Of the first time he saw the akuma, the first time he was really afraid, and when the old man destroyed them. Of when it felt like what he'd wanted so badly was finally his. Of the year when it was just him and the old man, learning language and healing and how to _kill_ the akuma. And then, his first mission with Kanda and Marie, and the years since then. Of getting burnt up, trapped, and crushed, to the point where even that weird girl gave him up for dead, all for the sake of…what? For the sake of someone else? Or for the sake of becoming a hero?

All he'd ever wanted to be was extraordinary.

Not much. There were so many ordinary people out there that he _had_ to be unique, just to notice how boring it was. He had to be, otherwise what was the point? Growing up, minding the kids, becoming the shopkeeper, being forced to marry some girl he'd grown up with who didn't want to marry him, having a bunch of _brats_ just like his siblings — God, it was disgusting. He'd wanted to be extraordinary, and he had been. Saviour and destroyer. Special.

Except that he wasn't. Not a saviour, even though he'd saved, not a destroyer, even though he'd done that too. Kanda just couldn't let him have even this without getting in the way, saving him like some kid in the riptide and cussing him out, even though he'd _known_ what he was doing. Probably.

His head spun, the pain crept through the medicine, and he slipped up time after time, just barely getting out. This mission was the knife's edge between a risk and a mistake. He'd felt _fear_ watching Kanda forge forward in the darkness. Too many times, in flames and flood, he'd been afraid for that hardassed brat.

More than that, he'd been afraid for himself.

It was probably the fatigue, or time to take another dose, but he was glad Kanda kept his head down.

…

Daisya forced down the last of the meal, and swung his legs over the side of the bed, testing his weight on the good one. On the other side of the room, Kanda had spread a map out, to memorize a path.

"Don't put weight on it. You'll mess it up."

"Yeah, yeah."

He picked up the rough crutches Kanda had made, and after a few false starts was able to hobble around the room. It was hell on the shoulders of all things, but he'd felt worse. Now that he could remember yesterday's conversation, he could guess how much worse. When changing back into the uniform he'd seen the scar tissue that extended up to his ribcage, and the protrusions of bone under the skin that hadn't been there a week before.

Yesterday, for once in his life, Kanda had been crystal clear.

He had died.

A couple of rounds of the room, and Daisya was satisfied that he'd be all right for another day's walk, so long as he wasn't the one doing the walking. Speaking of which, he'd been doing some thinking.

"We takin' the same road back as coming here?"

"No. Could be akuma on the main highway."

The question had mostly been for the sake of it, but Kanda hadn't noticed. What mattered was that he got a conversation going. He needed to talk.

"Got it."

He needed to say something.

"Then we're going," stated Kanda, folding up the map.

"Say, did you get much sleep last night?"

He needed Kanda to understand how much of a bastard he was.

"Enough. You'd better grab your bag, if you don't want to walk by yourself."

"Not right now, Yuu."

It was as if he'd dropped a bomb.

"What part of _don't call me that_ do you not understand—"

The first thing to hand to get Kanda to pay attention was always Alma, but now that he'd figured it out, it wasn't enough. So what if the person he hated so much had been his friend. So what if Alma had tried to kill him. Daisya needed to know why, and the given name was the next step on the path to discovery. It had certainly worked to make Kanda (because even though Yuu was his real name, he was still Kanda) whip around to face him, and shoot him a steel-cold glare. But it wouldn't worked this time: it hadn't worked yesterday, nor would it now. Daisya wasn't scared, though his heart beat bruises in his chest.

He just felt sorry.

"I didn't call you that until now, so shut up," he snapped. "Anyhow, there's some stuff I've got to say, before we screw anything else up."

"Before you screw anything else up."

"Nope, before _you_ do." He hopped towards Kanda's bed, and sat down, for a better seat.

"Fucking try me."

"Oh, I know I'm not the top of the exorcist pile," Daisya said, letting the usual sardonic edge back into his voice, "But what I did? I told you, I wasn't being stupid. I knew _exactly_ what was going to happen if I stayed still. I know that you're a better than me at this, so if it's a choice between the two of us, it has to be you. You know that, I know that, Lenalee's four-eyed nerd brother knows that. _Don't_."

Kanda had tried to turn away, to dismiss him like he always tried to do, but Daisya's hand had lashed out to catch his wrist. Why couldn't he just listen?

"But even that doesn't matter, because like it or not, I care about you! We're friends! I don't _want_ you to die! So I just did what was the right thing at the time, and now we're both here to tell the tale. I. Saved. You. Because I wanted to, for Christ's sake. Because I was scared to hell and back that you'd be strawberry jam on the ground and I'd be all alone. Finishing the mission, and then going back and telling them all that you—"

He took a deep breath, and went for the throat of the argument. "Not because I was being stupid. I'm still the smart one, here. You know what? I saved your sorry ass from getting burnt _alive_. I came up with a way for Marie and I to exterminate a whole horde of akuma, I got the Innocence out of the Opera House, and I figured out how to get to the Innocence that made those illusions back there. That was me! Maybe I felt sorry for you, maybe I needed to prove myself — doesn't matter now."

It was time to gulp another cupful of air, and hold it until whatever it was inside him stopped shaking.

"Because every _single_ time you find something to bitch about. I'm sick and fucking tired of it. Just because you've got a God damned hero complex doesn't mean that the rest of us are only there for you to save! _I_ saved you then, because I needed to, and _I've_ just saved you now. Not the other way around."

There was stillness for a moment.

And another.

Another.

Daisya exhaled, but didn't flinch away from the confrontation.

Then, slowly, Kanda's lips pulled back to reveal gritted teeth. With a single movement, he broke Daisya's brittle grip, and finally turned up his mouth to make the grimace into a terrifying smile.

"You get it, now," he spat, "You said you were scared. Finally, you know how I fucking feel."

He turned towards the door, and left Daisya frozen in place.

"Get your stuff, unless you want your leg to stay like that."

Kanda. Feeling. It was something he'd never really thought about before, not in terms of himself.

"Daisya."

Not like that. He knew Kanda had to save people, but for him to admit what he did and admit that he _cared,_ not just doing a job…it wasn't a Kanda thing. He got mad, but he didn't get worried, and he didn't tell Daisya the whole story. Until now.

"Get. Moving. We don't have much time."

Daisya breathed in, and out, and in again.

"Yeah. I know."


	52. Chapter 52

**So, because my updates have been bad and irregular, this one is a super-chapter. This fic (as most of you have probably guessed) isn't exactly Daisya's story, but is mostly Daisya's story with respect to Kanda, because it was Kanda not exploding at Daisya and not even getting angry with him in the anime that got me to write this thing in the first place. Lenalee, Tiedoll, and Marie - it's easy to see how their relationships with Daisya would come to be, but as for Kanda it's a complete mystery. However, this means that I've been sorely neglecting them, so I tried to sketch out parts of their relationships in side stories.**

 **Anyhow, there will be flashbacks in this chapter - they're in no particular chronological order, so you can slot them in where they fit in the timeline.**

 **Hope you guys can enjoy the chapter! I was reading some of the earlier stuff the other day, and [wince] even though I'm still not great, this still seems to improve**

They had the cabin to themselves, sitting side by side on a bench opposite their equipment. In case of any emergency, it was better to have everything close to hand instead of stored up on the shelves that were just a bit too high for kids before their growth spurt.

"Dude, I was having a nice nap until we got into town."

It was comforting, to hear Daisya back to normal. What he'd said these past few days still followed Kanda around, no matter how many times he tried to swat it out of his head.

"Don't try to tell me you're not tired."

Daisya yawned loudly, and stretched his arms out, one sliding over Kanda's shoulders and the other stretching out the window. Backwater railway lines like these didn't have the biggest cabins or the comfiest benches. "You know me too well."

No, he didn't know him at all. "You haven't shut up about it for days."

"But this time I was complaining about it because I was actually tired, you know, not just for the sake of it."

Whether that was true or not, Kanda couldn't tell. All he knew was that Daisya needed a heavy dose of sleep, now that they were relatively safe from akuma. There'd been a ton of them just hanging around the abbey in the hours afterwards, as if someone had warned them.

"Whatever. I'll sit up and sleep; you can lie across the bench."

"Don't need to tell me twice."

He tried to remember that last time _he'd_ properly slept. This body could take more than a human's, a lot more, but with one exorcist down and akuma swarming he'd had no choice but to stay up, catching an hour or two here and there, asking Daisya to keep a lookout when they rested at the side of the road. It had been days. The day before they went to the abbey was probably the last one.

This was no fighting state. He should have rested a while earlier: he was a light sleeper, and he could outrun the akuma. Daisya was just dead weight. Couldn't run, couldn't use his Innocence fast enough to fight, too hyped-up on pain and fatigue and those meds he took to think his way out. He could just be left there, when push came to shove. Kanda had tried pushing him away before, tried locking him out or failing that to shove him out of the way. He'd thought he'd finally forced Daisya to cope on his own when he dangled Alma's mystery in front of him in return for an ounce of fucking caution, but now he'd figured out the fucking clues he'd picked up along the way.

It was obvious that he wasn't going to make it much longer. Alone, or with Kanda's help.

It hurt.

It hurt, and Kanda knew it, but that didn't make the dull pain of it go away. If he accepted it now, that Daisya's recklessness meant that he was living on borrowed time, he would be able to accept it when it finally happened.

That's what he'd thought, until he'd felt the hand in his back and nothing below him, heard the grinding stone and sickening crunch of bones, landed hard and in a blind panic ripped the fractured slabs of rock from off the body, to see the damage underneath.

One day, he would be a few seconds too late, too tired, too slow, and Daisya would be gone, and he would either have to die with him, or live on.

He'd made that choice years ago.

It wasn't any easier.

Daisya had already curled up, head resting on Kanda's knees, when the conductor came by to check tickets. Two passes, stamped with the rose seal of the Black Order, were duly inspected and returned, and the door slid shut again. Kanda locked it for good measure.

Whether he was awake or not, Daisya's eyes were closed and his breathing was soft and sound, keyed in to Kanda's own rhythm. No one could see them, pulling off into the forest and heading toward the plains.

No one could see him.

Slowly, he passed a hand over Daisya's face, smoothing back his messy hair and tucking it behind his ear to test if he was asleep. Daisya might be able to sleep through thunderstorms and lightning, but he was jumpy.

No movement. He was out like a light.

It wasn't Kanda's room, one illusion and his cracked flagstones behind a double-bolted door, but it would do. The locked door was enough.

He braced his shoulders against the wall, crossed his arms, and leaned sideways on the door, falling into oblivion if not into sleep. And slowly, bit by bit uncoiling each muscle and nerve, he let himself relax.

And start to cry.

…

Oblivious and relishing the rest and the peaceful haze of extra pills, Daisya let his thoughts drift over to what the Order had become to him.

What he might have left behind, if not for Kanda.

…

"Daisya?" called Lenalee, her warm voice diffusing through the dusty air. "You here?"

The boy in question hurriedly shoved a pile of paper to the side, dropping a heavy book on top to hide the spidery sketches that covered the pages. If he'd been trying to look like an academic, an hour's worth of doodles on his notes wouldn't do him any favours.

"Yep! Recent East Asian history section."

He grabbed another volume from the stack in front of him, and opened it up to a random page. The library was the only place you could get any piece and quiet these days, now that akuma activity was back up from the summer and the exorcists were coming and going like anybody's business. It was a bit chilly up here, with no fire allowed near the dry paper, but he'd bundled himself into a nest of blankets big enough to keep him warm.

"Got it!"

Soft footsteps ran towards him, climbing the creaky stairs without a single misstep and taking them two or three at a time from the sound of it.

Daisya hated to admit it, but Lenalee wasn't the same nervous wreck he'd sometimes thought of; embarrassingly enough, she was good, and getting better at this whole exorcist thing. Like, seriously good. Great. Kanda-level good. Beating-him-in-one-on-one-football good, as of a week ago, for crying out loud! If he were to be honest, that was why he was _trying_ to study now (no one said anything about succeeding) — he needed to hold his ground somehow. Well, make up ground. He could keep pace with her in strength for a few years more (never mind that she was younger than him and should by all rights be a scrawny little weakling), but she was on track to beat him in lessons.

After so much time on the road in the fall, with no one but a finder, it was nice to come back to a challenge.

"Does your four-eyed brother want to see me, or something?" he asked, seeing her come into view between the crooked shelves. "I thought I was on leave until next week."

"Nope, that's right," she confirmed, speaking still too sweetly for Daisya to hold her skills against her. "Marie just got back ahead of schedule, so I figured you'd want to know."

Daisya nearly jumped out of his seat, but his legs were too stuck tangled up in the blankets. "What?! No, did you see him?"

"Unless I'm going blind, he's catching up with Suman." She grinned at him. "Should I hold you steady, or are you going to be okay?"

"Oh shut up, man," he shot back. "I haven't seen him in, like, six months! Whenever I'm back he gets send off to the back end of nowhere."

"Oh, yeah, I guess so. Me and Kanda ran that mission a few weeks back with him down in Fez."

Lenalee kicked one of the shelves back a bit, and sat down on a lone cabinet, lost in unfamiliar territory. Probably Reever had brought it up here, to keep at least some of the files organized and safe from her brother.

"And where was I?" Daisya asked, "Getting my ass kicked with a couple of newbie finders. I still can't believe we got out of that alive."

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

"Uh, nuh uh. You know that time where we got stuck in that bog in White Russia, and your feet got stuck and my Innocence was full of guck? Like that. But with a couple of good-for-nothings."

He shuddered at the memory. Not that bad? Not that _bad_? A whole _army_ inhabited by Innocence and too belligerent to give it up? A couple of superstitious little kids? Come on.

"Daisya," she implored, frowning slightly, "Don't say that."

"It's true!"

"I meant that you shouldn't include yourself."

The grin that immediately burst out from her showed the joke, the little swine.

"Ha ha," he said flatly, throwing her a look. "I don't even know if you were joking, but very funny."

"Anyhow, if you can afford to take a break from your studies, I'm sure he'd be excited to see you again before you go."

She crossed and uncrossed her legs, looking almost as excited as Daisya to have three quarters of their group back together. The exorcists and even the finders tended to separate off into little gangs, and just with the way it all played out, the quartet of himself, Marie, Kanda, and Lenalee (sometimes with four-eyes and the old man, if he was in town) had become his new family.

Family. He hadn't thought about them in a few weeks, but it was nearly time to write the monthly letter.

"Hello? Daisya?"

Lenalee waved a hand in front of his eyes, and snatched it away when he tried to grab it. Yep, definitely family.

"Sure!" he answered, "I'll just finish this up, and then I'll follow you back down."

Carefully, he stretched, and things snapped in places he wasn't sure could cramp like that. God, the academic life was a tough one.

"You should do some exercises tonight," chirped Lenalee, "With me and the rest of Yeager's students and the new recruits. It'll get you back into shape."

"Ugh, maybe. Now why don't you get lost?" he said affectionately, patting her on the head, "Go back to your new little friends, or whatever. Someone actually your age."

"Hey, I'm not _that_ young any more."

She hopped to her feet, and stood on her tiptoes to make a point before running ahead.

"Tell that to me when you're taller," Daisya shouted after her.

"It's a deal," she called back, now at the top of the stairs. "By the way, you'll probably read better if you turn the book right-side-up!"

Daisya stared into space for a moment as the stairs creaked, and looked back at the text in front of him. Sure enough, it was upside down.

Kids these days had no respect for their elders.

…

"Hey, gramps! Long time no see."

"Ah, Daisya. It's been at least a few months since the last time you called me old."

Daisya skipped the last few feet, and slid on to the bench beside Marie. A quick check showed that nobody was talking to him right this very moment; for Daisya, this was a free pass to go and start chatting.

"Aw, you missed me! Any near death experiences you got to talk about? Interesting people? Cool instruments?"

Marie's information was rarely short of interesting. The guy saw — didn't see — the world in a different way from everyone else, and seemed to have the brains to back it up. Even just asking him to describe a rock was an experience. Your average loser would just say it was grey, but he'd talk about how it smelled, and the pitch it rang out with when you hit it with something.

"Nothing to rival what I heard you were up to in the Yugoslavic region, but we did run into some rather unique situations. Would you like to hear about Australia?"

"That's the convict colony? Right?"

"Yes. The government is brutal and the weather is bad…"

"So like Russia?" Daisya interrupted. "Let me tell you, some of the stuff that happens there is just. Ew."

"Maybe," continued Marie, smoothing over the break, "But it's hot, not cold. As I was saying, the folk songs are incredible. They're just — they are history and art in one."

Marie's face lit up as he said it; sure, he was calm, but the moment you got him talking about something he liked, he was even bouncier than Jeanne.

After how sombre he'd been the last time Daisya saw him, it felt nice to see him cheered up.

"Don't leave me hanging! What do they do that's so special?"

"It's hard to describe. It is — tapestries are a recording of stories and histories, and yet they are also just tapestries?"

"Well, yes…"

"The songs are songs, with tunes and lyrics, but some songs are histories that go on for centuries. And the singers have all of it in their memories, more than books."

Daisya whistled. "I don't think I can even remember the words to my school songs."

"Mm."

Marie didn't even try to deny it. Hey, that was kinda rude!

"Where's Kanda? I haven't heard him around."

Daisya sighed, and slumped down on the table. That was why it had been a boring few days, with Lenalee off with Komui all the time.

"He's off on a check-up mission with Isaac for a couple of weeks more. I betcha he'll be _begging_ to have me back after that."

This time, he didn't give Marie an opening for one of his pointed silences.

"Say, are you back for good? You've been running off to all the different branches since like, a year and a half ago. They were even going to move your room!"

He trailed off, but Marie didn't answer for a moment. No sense of dramatic timing. Good old Marie.

"I'm back now. They needed me for intelligence."

"Like, smarts or data?"

This got something that was almost a chuckle out of him.

"Data. I can eavesdrop."

"And don't I know it."

Daisya waited to see if Marie was going to fill in the blanks.

Nope.

Okay, a few seconds was enough. He really had to do _all_ the work some times, to get the good stuff out of the guy. At least Kanda found the time to rag at him in between.

"I'm guessing all that secret intel stuff is under wraps, so I'm not gonna ask about that."

"Good."

"Do you want to do some sparring later on? Kanda hasn't been around to drill me, so my strikes are getting pretty weak."

He gave Marie his best puppy eyes, because sparring was almost as good as dancing for a good time, and then realized that he could see 'em. Damn. It's been too long without someone who could hear you through three walls.

But Marie seemed to get the effect, smiling a bit.

"Do you think you're up to it? Kanda told me you got into a serious scrape a few months back."

"Man, that healed up months ago. I was _born_ to be an exorcist."

Marie had to be making fun of him — his smile had broadened, and what, what was he doing now, getting up just after he'd come to see him?

"Is that so? The synch scores I heard from Reever would say otherwise."

"You're on. Though, it kinda sucks that we can't practice that resonance trick of ours, now that you're back."

He could tell by the slight tightness in Marie's expression that the guy was about to drop something good, but he didn't want to be kept in suspense.

"Whatcha looking like that for?"

Marie chuckled just once, and smiled.

"The old section chief retired, Daisya. We're free to practice if we wish."

"Sick! Give me five —" he tripped on the bench in his haste to get up, catching himself just in time. "No, three minutes — just need to get my stuff. 'Kay. Got it. Innocence drills. See you in a bit!"

As he sprinted for the stairs, he heard Marie's muted laughter on the lower edge of hearing.

…

"Oh boy—"

Daisya wiped at the water dripping down his face, having emptied the canteen over his head. It didn't do much to cool him off, after the match they'd just had.

"—where the hell did you learn something like that?"

"From you, remember?" Lenalee smirked.

"Ugh. I know I taught it to you, but I never expected you to actually, like, _learn_ it."

They were finishing up a few cool-down lengths of the courtyard, red-faced and panting.

"You'll just have to make up some more moves, then!"

"Yeah, otherwise you're going to beat me."

It had been ages since the last match with his unit — Tiedoll and Kanda versus Daisya and Marie — now that the General had finished the basic training, so Lenalee was his practice partner. Actually, next month would mark the one year mark since they started doing this, when they had time.

"Don't be silly, Daisya, you're still better than me."

"And I'm three and a half years older than you, in case you forgot." He reached over to ruffle her hair. "It takes practice."

"I know, I know, but do you think I'll be able to catch up to you?"

Something about the way she said it made him think that she wasn't just talking about football.

"Well, maybe not me, because I'm the best at football, but yeah! You've just got to stick to it."

He couldn't see her face from his position beside her, but for a moment she seemed to deflate, the usual post-match buzz trickling out like sand from an hourglass. Nothing Daisya could understand, no, definitely not the same feeling as in the beginning, when no one else wanted to play with him or when he realized that the rest of the kids were on a mission.

"I…will."

"Lena? You good?"

They halted halfway across the yard, and Lenalee gently reached up to take his hand off of her head, and place it down by his side. Then, she smiled, not without sadness.

"I'm fine, Daisya, really."

Hard to believe she was only ten, sometimes, with how much she tried to act like nothing was wrong. They started off again, and Daisya decided it was worth a try.

"It's not bad mustache again, is it? I thought those finder said he was holed up over in Asia, but he's as bad as dust. Turns up goddamn _everywhere_."

 _Mind your language_ , his mother snapped in his head. Bah, what did she know. Lenalee dealt with worse from Kanda every day.

"No. No. Not him. It's just, I had to run last mission with two finders."

"That so. Which ones?"

"Dora and Bailey."

Her voice had grown quieter second by second, until now it was the hushed tone of someone (someone who wasn't Daisya, that is) speaking in a library or a church.

"Dora…yeah." He almost had to wince. "Bailey, she's the new one, right? Bit older than your four-eyed brother?"

"Yes."

"Well, I saw Bailey off with Dris the other day."

 _I didn't see Dora_. The unspoken words ran between them.

"I got to her in time."

 _I couldn't save Dora. I couldn't get to her in time._

Finders lasted six months or so. Newbies less, vets more. Dora had been on for about a year so far, mostly as an exorcists' escort, which wasn't too bad. She'd get a good send-off with the others in the ceremony at the end of the month.

She'd had a soft spot for animals, and she'd knitted Lenalee a scarf for her birthday. She was plump, and made good small talk with the other adults, and was reliable in an emergency. Daisya hadn't been on a mission with her, but he'd seen her around, and Lenalee had talked to him about her. She talked to everyone about everyone.

"Gotcha," Daisya said. He didn't apologize, because there was nothing he could have done about it. "So you just need to be faster next time. You'll get there."

"No."

All of a sudden, Lenalee had turned to face him, and stamped her foot down. "Don't you understand? It's Dora! She's never — she's not coming back. And it's my fault."

Her voice cracked and broke down, and try as she might Daisya could still her the stuttering where her lungs were trying to heave sobs. Just like his crybaby sister back home. No — that was wrong. She _was_ his crybaby sister, and they were here, at home.

 _Daisya,_ his mother scolded, _what did I tell you about making your sister cry?_

"No way." He took her by the shoulders in what he hoped was the right way to calm her down. Yes, she was really only ten. "Look, would you ever _decide_ not to save her? No, because she's your friend. It's just…it's just what happens. Sometimes it's just not our choice."

A couple of tears slid down her face, though she wasn't ashamed of them as Daisya would be. What a lame reassurance that was, that there wasn't anything anybody could do about it. If he was in a story, it would be a cop-out of a speech.

But it was true.

"So it's God, or something?" asked Lenalee, staring at him as if she were trying to challenge it, or something. It was almost an accusation, but not directed at him.

"I have no idea. Not a single clue."

Whether that was the right answer or not, he also didn't know, but it made her laugh.

"Daisya! Come _on_."

"Hey, it's the truth."

She pushed his arms off, and scrubbed at her eyes, then set her face in the usual slight smile. "I know. Let's get back now, so we can clean up before lunch."

"Fine by me. Can you get me an extra bread roll?"

"Why?"

He grinned at her, as if everything was back to normal. "'Cos Jerry likes you better, so he won't yell!"

"All right, if you say so."

…

A strained noise almost jerked Daisya out of his reverie, but for now the medication let him have a few more fragmented dreams.

…

"Hey, look at this!"

He knew he sounded like some dumb kid who'd just gotten a puppy and didn't know how much work they were, but this was great! This was exciting, entertaining, not boring!

The Charity Bell hung in midair glowing slightly, at about the level of his sternum. As he moved his hands around it, drawing them closer and further away, the pitch changed, going from a tinkling little doorbell to the rich and chocolate tones of a church bell.

"Didn't you hear me, old man? Get your ass over here."

"Don't be rude, Daisya," said Tiedoll's voice from about five inches behind his right ear, "I'm right behind you—"

"Jesus _Christ!_ "

"And don't take the name of the Lord in vain."

How the hell could that old guy move so fast? And quietly enough that he couldn't notice it too, the son of a bitch.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he shot back, too quickly to take the surprise from his voice and replace it with sarcasm.

"By the way, my child, you appear to have dropped your Charity Bell. Was there something you wanted to show me?"

Daisya opened his mouth to snark back, then shut it, and looked at the space between his hands where the Innocence was.

Had been. _Shit_.

"I — it — you heard it, you should know!"

"Heard what?"

"I got it to change tones while floating it. See? I told you I could do it."

He grinned eagerly up at the General, waiting for the inevitable approval and easy forgiveness. But Tiedoll only smiled sadly, and shook his head.

"I'm afraid my hearing's getting bad in my old age, so I didn't hear a thing. All I see is that you dropped the Bell, if indeed it was floating in the first place."

" _What?_ "

"Please repeat the exercise until you have it ready, I said. I will come over when you call me, but in the mean time, if a bit of a shock is enough to make you lose control, you'll have to stay far away from any fights."

As the conversation went on, Daisya's grin had frozen into a grimace, and eventually morphed into utter confusion and then indignation.

"You can't do _that_. How else will I learn if you won't let me watch?"

"You'll learn by _practicing_ , my boy. Just like everyone else."

He gave Daisya one last paternal smile, and walked back to the easel on the other side of the plateau.

God _damn_ that bastard, pulling a prank like that.

He kind of had to admire it.

…

"Surprise!"

They'd been up all night. Marie had been sighing in the corner for the last hour, the kitchen would need an extra-good scrubbing tonight, three inches of Lenalee's hair had to be cut off, Komui was panicking, Daisya could have sworn he got eggshell up his nose, and in the end a very grumpy Jerry had to be woken up at 5 in the morning, but here it was.

The alleged cake.

The layers were sliding off of one another, propped up by broken chopsticks to keep them on the plate. The cake was burnt on the edges and, as they would find out, still gooey in the middle, and covered with off-white frosting that dripped and slowly oozed down on to the plate. Twelve chopsticks were pushed upright in the cake, with a bit of kerosene on the end to make them light up when the time came. In short, it was a disaster, but Daisya was inordinately proud of it. Marie had given up just after the oven had caught on fire, and Lenalee had been hauled off by Komui to get a hair cut halfway through, but he'd seen it through from beginning to end.

Of course, he could have made one before, but he hadn't thought to ask about birthdays until Jeanne and Kiki had theirs, and when Lenalee had hers Jerry wouldn't let him near the kitchen, and finally for his birthday he'd been out mucking around the backwoods with Kanda and Lenalee, and since Marie and Tiedoll hadn't been there he'd just had a leftover slice with a candle in it when he got back. Not bad, but not as fun as making your own.

Now, with Kanda's birthday, he hadn't been about to give up the opportunity. No matter if Jerry, and Komui, and Marie, and even Lenalee had told him in varying ways that Kanda wasn't a birthday person. They obviously didn't know that a person's birthday wasn't about them, it was about everyone else getting to eat cake and make fun of them. Seriously, they wouldn't be much fun otherwise.

And so he was standing, arms crossed and grinning, in front of a glaring Kanda, with Lenalee and Marie lurking in the background, the former smiling awkwardly and the latter trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Happy birthday! Whaddaya think?"

Kanda just narrowed his eyes, and Daisya felt a tiny bit disappointed. Don't know why, because if Kanda didn't like it there was more for him.

"What. Is that."

"It's a cake, dumbass. Look at it. Icing, layers, the works."

"Who told you my birthday."

"Let's see…"

"Don't tell me."

"…Komui, and Lenalee and Marie confirmed it, and probably Jerry and everyone else would have told me if I'd asked."

He took a step closer to Kanda, and glared back at him.

"So, you gonna eat it or not? 'Cos if not, I'm taking it."

"It's breakfast."

"That's why you've got to decide."

Kanda's scrutinizing stare shifted down from Daisya to the cake he'd made. It wasn't an attractive cake, Daisya knew, but it was what was on the inside that counted. In this case, burnt and undercooked cake.

"You want to eat all that?"

"Sure thing."

"Then I'll take some."

Why it was, he didn't know, but something warm bubbled up inside Daisya and turned into a laugh.

"I'm happy that you like it so much!"

"Moron."

In the background, Marie and Lenalee slunk over to another table, leaving Daisya to chatter away in peace. What a nice gesture.

…

Something jolted, and Daisya's eyes flew open. Medicine. The pain was flowing over him again.

He scrabbled at his pocket, got out the vial, and through the noise and the shaking of the train downed a couple. Good.

Slowly, his surroundings filtered though his senses. Rattle and bump of the train on the tracks, Kanda's ever-so-faint warmth — god damn, that kid was practically a lizard, no wonder he needed such a thick coat — the shaking of the body that held him, and the sound, just on the edge of hearing, of sobs.

A drop of warm water fell on his face, and slid down his cheek.

This was a dream. This had to be a dream.


	53. Chapter 53

**The random latin is just a bad google translate rewriting of Dixit Dominus and a couple of mass movements, because I wanted the [slow mo, trippy special effects, dramatic choir] effect, but it's hard to do in writing. Benjamin Britten's Agnus Dei from Missa Brevis conveys the right amout of creepiness for DGM, if you want some background music, but there aren't too many good recordings of it.**

 **I'm thinking of giving this another edit later, by which I mean I'm going to forget about it and go back to read this chapter and cringe in three months, but no matter!**

 **Anyway, someone give these kids a blanket and a library of self-help books. Please. _Please_.**

The cold, slim blade of Mugen cut down his wrist, and and then was cast on to the grass beside.

…

 _Dominus_ _a dextris reges confregit in die irae tuae amans_

 _Judicabit in ecclesiarum_

…

Kanda watched the scene through the eyes of what the Order called God: he saw from far away a small figure, hunched over and reaching outwards over a corpse, as if in prayer.

Only now it seemed such a weak gesture, lost in the immense shadow of the abbey.

In a matter of minutes, flowing fast as sand through an eggtimer, the doll-like supplicant's expression changed. The initial anxiety took on a sheen of agony, but quickly settled in a kind of mania, the lips drawn back in a grimace even as the eyes burned.

Of course, from this distance none of that was visible. It was just how he remembered it.

…

 _Implebit ruinas, conquassabit capita in domum tuam_

…

It seemed the body was no more than a bundle of rags, flopping over when Kanda set it on the ground, now back in his body and looking through his eyes. The head especially kept shifting, until finally he braced it against the rough bark of a white spruce.

Its mouth was full of blood. Was it his own? Was it Daisya's? Kanda could still see it on its lips, unmoving under the forest's shelter

…

 _Kyrie eleison_

…

In the end, he had gone in for the kill. Flitting steps and cautious jumps had led him to the bell tower's top in a matter of seconds, even as the stone shifted beneath him. This Innocence was a wounded animal, lashing out at any and all who drew near, and like an animal it would be put down.

…

 _Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto_

…

Landing lightly on the ground, Kanda gazed up at the light that shuddered in the sky above. The bell cracked like eggshell, piece by piece disintegrating as the Innocence within burned through the shell without, in doing so leaving the building around them. Stone crashed, for each scrap of iron that winked out there was a section of a battlement that fell to earth, shaking but never swaying the boy that there stood watching.

He never looked away. Though the air cracked with thunder, his eyes were raw and fixed on the green-tinged glow of the thing that had destroyed so much.

…

 _Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in secula seculorum_

 _Amen_

…

Laid out on the bed, he was alive, at least, and could be lucid, but for how much longer?

Kanda watched him sleep, as he had after the fire, after the river, not knowing if he would keep risking his life for the Innocence.

…

 _Agnus Dei_

…

Wondering, without really feeling anything but anger, if he would keep risking his life for him.

…

 _Qui tollis peccata mea_

…

Not knowing if next time, he would be too late for Daisya.

…

 _Miserere mei_

…

It was hard to know if he had ever been young or would ever be old, but now Kanda felt too young, and powerless.

…

 _Agnus Dei_

…

Now, he realized, that he did have a family, and that somehow they had been with him from the beginning, good and bad.

…

 _Odi te_

…

But there and then, with Daisya lifeless and the rest of them so far away, he had been alone.

…

 _Dona mihi pacem_

…

He didn't wake up, really, but some bolt of panic threw him into consciousness. At any rate, Kanda's eyes opened.

It was no surprise that Daisya was still out cold, in the pale light, or that he'd nearly fallen off the seat. He tossed and turned even like this, without someone to kick him into submission.

Slowly, hands light so he didn't wake his partner and start of the usual stream of complaining, he pulled Daisya back up, and after a moment's thought pulled the bandages back and off his face where they'd grown loose. He'd probably been too lazy to change them since Kanda had done it. Though why that dumbass kept on wearing them now, he didn't know. The burns had finished healing a few months after he'd got them.

He remembered some snippets of words they'd passed between them one morning.

Probably too vain to take them off, then. Or he thought they looked interesting. Typical Daisya. He didn't even have to get half the scars, in the first place.

 _He's going to die,_ Kanda thought, _if he keeps this up. He was always going to die. Idiot._

He traced the markings down his cheeks.

 _I should've left him._

 _I should have fucking killed him, before something like this happened._

It took some time before he breathed out, hands shaking. Then, as if to remind himself of something, he pushed up his sleeve, and looked at the scars beneath, running up his arm where he'd needed blood, and needed it _now_.

You always had to pay, sooner or later, for what you got.

If he continued to save Daisya, would he be alive to find _that person_?

Would it even matter?

Something broke in him, and made a disgusting noise.

The sound of crying.

…

Asleep or awake, Kanda was in some other world. No way in hell he'd break down like this, not in front of him of all people. Not unless either of them wanted a fight on so little sleep.

For a while, Daisya stayed still and watched, considering his options. The easiest one would be to just go back to sleep, pretending nothing had happened.

 _Have I ever seen Kanda like this?_

Alternately, he could just move to the other bench, and use the windowsill as a pillow. Not quite as comfy, but still better than a tongue-lashing.

 _What happened? Did something go down while I was knocked out?_

Running into the hallway would have been a good idea too, but it was too narrow to set up camp, so he'd have to stand until he got the all-clear.

 _Kanda's not supposed to be_ sad _. I mean, of course he probably is, sometimes, but_ — _he's not supposed to be hurt, he's not supposed to get killed, he's not supposed to cry. This isn't how it should be._

He could also…

 _It looks painful._

He dragged a hand across his eyes, and swallowed hard, wishing the pills would kick in faster.

Who was he kidding.

 _It feels so painful_.

Pushing Kanda's arms away, he sat up.

"Hey, Kanda."

His partner seemed to be moving through treacle, turning his head towards him and staring him through, but maybe he was still half-asleep, because his eyelids had slipped down a bit underneath the long lashes. At any rate, he wasn't glaring.

"You okay?"

Yeah, it was a stupid question, but it was the only one he could ask.

"Figure it out," said Kanda quietly.

"You haven't called me an idiot, yet, so something must be wrong." Daisya forced a grin.

"Shut up."

"Or maybe I'm wrong—"

As quickly and sharply he moved in combat, Kanda had wrapped his arms around him.

"I told you to shut up," he croaked. His voice was raw.

Daisya complied for once, and sat still, waiting for this to pass.

There was something, something here. Something more that he'd remembered, while he slept, that Kanda had once told him.

A lie, of course, but he'd thought it was truth at the time.

…

Training days were all different, otherwise Daisya would have slacked off earlier, to make Kanda come and drag him in. Sometimes he'd just do the usual exercise of hitting targets with a football — it barely counted as work, even — and other times he'd be running laps around headquarters with Lenalee until his legs broke down and he started coughing up something disgusting. Less often, he'd play scales with Marie, seeing how finely he could tune the Charity Bell to background noise or the Noël Organum, to up the synch capacity and the force of the sound wave.

Today, he traded punches, kicks, and blocks with Kanda, practicing two or three variations of a move over and over until he started getting bored and Kanda gave up, and moved into free fighting. They wouldn't leave until Kanda had seen him use some set number of moves with some amount of competency, so it kept Daisya on his toes. Sometimes literally, when he worked the dances of his childhood and that Tiedoll had taught him into the steps. Hah, one day, one glorious day, he'd slipped past Kanda's punch, grabbed the outstretched wrist, and braced his arm on Kanda's waist to pull him up and around in a glorious leap. Of course, he'd gotten quickly thrown when he tried to finish it with a twirl, but for a moment they'd been dancing.

Not that he didn't find the time to do it most days, in his room or with Isaac or Jeanne, but with Kanda it was that much more of a victory.

But enough of that. He should be concentrating.

This session involved some more complex block-throw combinations, with entire sections of a match as the technique instead of just one or two moves. Daisya loved it. One you knew the steps, you could just do it that much more fluidly, moving around to Kanda's deft counters.

And finally, at the end of the session, throwing him down on to the mat in a surprise attack. Take that!

"Ha! Ha ha!"

Kanda just glared at him, but he was more miffed than truly angry, and Daisya was willing to be that he was more than a little amused.

"What."

"Just wait 'till I tell everyone I beat _Kanda_ in sparring."

Daisya savoured the words on his tongue, before remembering to get Kanda in a pressure-point hold.

"We weren't sparring," said Kanda flatly. Yep, definitely trying to seem angry. There wasn't any venom in it. But what was that he was saying? Not sparring? Daisya'd be damned if he couldn't beat Kanda after two. Entire. Years.

"What? Then what were you doing?"

"I was drilling you. You're too lazy to work unless you're trying to beat someone."

The smug bastard—

Kanda moved fast as a snake, cutting off Daisya mid-thought. Somehow, he kicked him off balance, then flipped around and, lying underneath him, knocked his balance off. Before Daisya could react, he spun the two of them around, ending up kneeling over Daisya, left arm on his shoulder and right holding his wrist down to the ground.

"See."

Even lying down, paralyzed and looking into Kanda's eyes, a thrill ran up his spine. Not the comfortable fire of victory, but something sharper. The need to _win_. To beat Kanda at his own game, even if he had to spent the next year fighting him.

Kanda was better than him by miles; still, he had to say what he was thinking right now.

"But I was fighting you!"

Kanda paused, still holding him down, and smirked. It was something he'd been doing more and more often over the months, Daisya noticed — not smiling, thank God, but the self-satisfied twist of the lips that was one of his own favourites.

"No, dumbass. You're not ready for the real stuff yet."

"Tell that to me when I kick your fucking face in for going easy on me," Daisya shot back, returning the grin.

"Don't make me laugh."

"Hey, I'm not joking."

It couldn't be more obvious that he was. Kanda shot him a quick look of disdain before stepping off and helping him back to his feet.

"You're an idiot."

"Excuse me?"

"You could never hurt me."

…

It occurred to Daisya only now, leaning into Kanda's hunched and empty frame, hollowed out from exhaustion, that he could hurt Kanda.

Before he could follow that train of thought, he realized Kanda was talking. To him.

"What?"

"I _said_ , you're a dumbass."

 _People don't love people like us_. That was a good old solid fact, one he could rely on. Parents, siblings, schoomates, they knew the drill. Honestly, he didn't need to know what Kanda had said before.

They'd had this conversation a few times too many.

"I know, I know," he sighed, "You're not going to save me next time—"

"No."

Kanda's grip grew tighter.

"You know save you next time," he said, voice still scratched, like a recording on a gramophone. "It's no fucking use saying I won't."

Daisya could feel his head lift from his shoulder, though he still couldn't see his face. His expression could have been sleepy, or stone-like, but Daisya had known him for too long not to know that his eyes would be sharp, and hard as flint.

"I'm going to save you next time, and the time after that, and after that."

Slowly, Daisya exhaled, keeping himself in check. It was hard.

"I know."

People may not love people like him, and Kanda least of all, but Daisya knew he was too duty-bound to just let him die.

Some time passed before Kanda broke the silence.

"I guess you did keep your promise."

For once, Daisya drew a blank. He'd made so many joking and serious ones over the years that it was hard to remember which was which.

"What promise?"

"Alma. You fucking figured out who Alma was."

Kanda's hold on him weakened, but he didn't draw away. A rickety cart going over ruts with a jolt, off in the forest. He'd said he'd be too proud to die if Kanda gave him a challenge, but really he'd just wanted to know. Know who it was that made Kanda freeze the first night they'd been in real danger, in the fire. Alma, who Kanda hated more than anything else.

And to tell the truth, Daisya still didn't have a clue who Alma was. Just a kid, who'd been Kanda's friend, and who'd tried to kill him.

"Kinda. You know me, I can do anything."

"Except just do your job and _not die_."

That's also what the conversation had been about, when Kanda had cussed him out for enjoying himself, instead of working for the Order like a mindless machine. If he'd been so angry about that, why hadn't he just, maybe, gone and told four-eyes? Turned him over to the Director for a talking-to? There were half a dozen easier ways to do it, without blaming him for trying to save his life, even now, _even after all this._ He'd thought they'd sorted it out just days ago, but no.

 _People don't love people like us_. Antonina had said it like a secret, something that would save him one day, but he still couldn't figure out what it meant. Did it mean exorcists? Dancers? People who never shut up when they were supposed to? People so covered in scars they were nothing but a broken reminder of what went wrong?

Kanda couldn't leave well enough alone.

" _That's_ what it was about?" He couldn't help but snap. "Your stupid hang ups over the Order? It has nothing to do with me, what they do. Which you still haven't told me, if that's even the reason you care."

The sound of laboured breath and creaking steel kept it from being a silence. Then, a sigh.

"I'm right, you don't have to tell me."

"Shut up."

"So why the hell have you been lying about it?" Daisya let the words out through a set jaw. "Why can't you just _say_ —"

Now his words were torn and ragged at the edges, almost ready to crack, but Kanda saved him from having to finish.

"I don't want you to die."

It was the softest he'd heard Kanda speak, muffled by the loose fabric of his cloak. It was the closest to the truth he'd ever gotten.

"I tried to make you stop your fucked-up sense of fun," he said, voice now louder and more raw, "And you didn't listen to me."

Daisya felt the need to laugh. They'd known each other for a year or so at the time, but Kanda had still thought that would work? That he'd actually pay attention?

"When did I ever listen to you?"

A sharp hiss told him he'd hit a nerve, as Kanda's fingers tightened on him.

"Shut up! You should've fucking left me! Gone and bitched to that four-eyed bastard, and stopped trying to save me."

He was out of breath by the end of it, Daisya heard, and a shuddering noise told him he was right. Good. It was about time Kanda felt everything he'd put up with.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I should have. You'd just keep griping and deflecting and giving the same old damn lies whenever I really tried to talk to you about this stuff. Alma, dying, anything!"

He still held on to Kanda, but now the words were tumbling out beyond his control, putting something into speech that he'd barely realized himself.

"Daisya—"

"I mean, maybe I was just curious at first, but you know I make stupid decisions, so why did you never think it was because we were friends? Why did you just keep shutting me down? Maybe I just wanted to know how you—"

" _Daisya_."

Kanda pulled away, and looked him in the tear-stained eye.

" _What,_ " he said flatly, his own voice now cracked.

"I know."

Words he'd never thought about, but wanted to hear.

It had been two years since they'd met, but Kanda was the winter snows he'd dreamed about as a child, the rough outer sea and the world beyond his reach. He'd longed to know him for longer than that.

Why did we have to do this for so _long?_

 _I'm sorry._ That was what it meant _._

And then something hot burned in Daisya, stinging all the way up his throat and over his face.

"Yeah."

The tears dripped on to his cloak, and then on to Kanda's shoulder as he moved to catch him.

"Yeah, you'd better!"

It would have been a shout if he'd had enough breath in his lungs, but a whisper was the best he could do.

"You'd better be fucking _sorry_ , after all the shit we've been through."

It was Kanda, now, who held him silently, until the tears stopped.

And for a while after.


End file.
